


Past Impending

by dracoqueen22



Series: All This and Heaven, Too [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Past Abuse, dark themes, escort AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-05-19 07:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14869592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: A shockingly familiar face shows up at Blue Sun, and Starscream learns how and why Rodimus is so deeply in debt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick warning, this work has mentions/discussions of past physical, sexual, emotional, and mental abuse. It's not explicit, but it does discuss these things so read with caution.

Group meetings like these were nothing new. Always boring, they were at least delightfully short, because Streamline liked making creds, and he couldn’t do that if his best merchandise wasn’t on the sales floor.   
  
Starscream dragged Rodimus with him, because the newbie needed the experience and the knowledge Streamline intended to impart on them. Rodimus wouldn’t have gone on his own. He tended to avoid anything he deemed boring.  
  
Rodimus grumbled the whole time, but it was pretty cute so Starscream let it be. Rodimus was still a kid in many ways. Like the younger sibling Starscream didn’t know never had and didn’t know he wanted. Probably never would, too. Starscream’s carrier had struggled enough with Starscream.   
  
Sunstreaker, sadly, was at the front of the crowd, and Starscream couldn’t get to him. So he was forced to linger in the back. Taller than most of the other escorts, Starscream easily saw over their heads. Poor Rodimus kept rising to the tips of his feet, craning his neck to see over the crowd.   
  
Streamline stood in front of three mechs of various coloration, though similar in frametype. They were armed, and thick armor suggested they were soldiers or mercenaries. Hm. New guards then. It had been mentioned last week Streamline was looking to expand the team. Business was booming, but their patrons weren’t always respectful or charming.   
  
“Thanks for coming everyone, I’m going to make this brief.” Streamline paced back and forth in front of the three mechs. “These are the new guards for the manor. Look at them. Memorize their faces, their gait, their fields. We don’t want any more mistakes.”   
  
Starscream snorted and folded his arms. Beside him, Rodimus leaned far to the right to get a look at the mechs, only to suddenly stiffen. It was a weird reaction, and Starscream shifted his attention to Rodimus instead. He could always meet the guards later.   
  
Rodimus had gone still, his optics locked on the three new mechs. His hands had dropped to his sides and formed little fists.   
  
“This is Broiler, this is Joyride, and this is Drift. Treat them with the same respect you give the others, and inform me at once if they try to take what they haven’t paid for,” Streamline continued, but Starscream scarcely paid him any attention.   
  
Rodimus’ ventilations had gone rapid. His optics paled. He rocked back on his heelstruts.   
  
“Rodimus?” Starscream murmured, unfolding his arms to rest a hand on the newbie’s shoulder. “Is everything all right?”   
  
Rodimus slowly turned toward him, and his expression was one Starscream had never seen before. Simultaneously bleak and afraid, his face drained of color. His lower lip trembled.   
  
“That’s not… it’s not...” He stammered, glancing at the three guards once more before he shook his head. “That’s not his name.”   
  
And then he was gone, tearing out from under Starscream’s hand to make a break for the door behind them, running out of it as if his aft were on fire.  
  
That was alarming.   
  
Starscream frowned. Concern and curiosity warred. He couldn’t let this lie. Sunstreaker could fill him in on the rest of the meeting later.   
  
Starscream slipped out of the room after Rodimus, but the other mech was nowhere in sight. He’d disappeared that quickly.   
  
Starscream wasn’t sure where Rodimus would go. Certainly not back to his own room. He barely tolerated his roommates and wouldn’t find solace near them. There were few places in Blue Sun, in fact, that one could go for privacy and security. He doubted it would be the roof, Rodimus didn’t seem the sort, and the garden was out of the question.   
  
Could he have…?  
  
It wouldn’t hurt to check.   
  
Starscream slipped into the lift and headed straight for his own quarters. It was a long shot, but one that paid off. The moment he came around the corner, he spotted the bright red and orange frame curled in front of his door.   
  
Rodimus sat on the floor, his knees drawn to his chassis, his arms wrapped around them, head bent forward against his arms. Like a youngling hiding from monsters. His spoiler visibly trembled, his armor taut against his frame. As Starscream approached, he tasted the dark turbulence in Rodimus’ field.   
  
He came within a few steps of Rodimus and paused, wondering how to handle this. Rodimus wasn’t particularly close-mouthed, but he’d been very vague as to his past. Starscream only knew what the rumors told him – that if Blue Sun did have the capacity to enslave mechs, then Rodimus’ situation was the nearest thing to it.   
  
Best to tread carefully.   
  
“It’s never polite to ask someone why they work here,” Starscream said quietly. He paused to give Rodimus a moment to absorb that. “And while it’s supposed to be voluntary, I know the world is not so moral.”   
  
Rodimus ex-vented and looked up, his gaze as bleak as his expression. “I’m here by choice. I have a debt, and this is how I have to pay it,” he rasped, his vocalizer thick with static, like someone struggling to maintain their emotional balance.   
  
“Because there are consequences if you don’t,” Starscream guessed. It didn’t equivocate in his head, this idea of it being Rodimus’ choice but him still claiming this was the method given to him as repayment.   
  
Rodimus’ gaze fell again. He nibbled on his bottom lip, his hands tightening where they gripped his arms. “… I was an idiot,” he finally whispered.   
  
Tread carefully indeed.   
  
Starscream cycled a ventilation. “Come inside.” He reached over Rodimus to key the door open. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen. I won’t even tell Sunstreaker.” He offered Rodimus a hand.   
  
Rodimus stared at it for a long moment, clearly indecisive, before he let Starscream pull him to his feet. He still wouldn’t meet Starscream’s optics. Instead he stared at the floor, shame leaking into his energy field.   
  
“Even if he asks?”   
  
“He doesn’t own me. And I can keep a secret.” Starscream squeezed Rodimus’ hand and tilted his head toward the door. “Coming?”   
  
Rodimus nodded.   
  
Starscream closed and locked the door behind them, putting a warning on it so Sunstreaker knew not to barge inside. Whatever it took to make Rodimus more comfortable.   
  
Rodimus stood in the middle of the room, looking around as if he didn’t recognize anything and didn’t know what to do. His spoiler drooped lower than Starscream had ever seen it. Gone was the usual vivacious energy that tended to cloak him.   
  
Starscream took his hand and tugged him to the windowseat, a bit disturbed by how Rodimus didn’t put up much of a protest. He curled into the small seat, frame pressed against the glass as he stared through to the streets below. Starscream sat across from him and gnawed on his bottom lip.   
  
Well, he was nothing if not determined.   
  
“So,” Starscream said, hoping to prod Rodimus into conversation. “Which one?”   
  
Rodimus’ head tilted against the transsteel. “Drift.”   
  
The white and red mech? He’d been carrying two swords if Starscream remembered. Seemed to be a speedster of some kind. He was smaller than the other two, and the one Starscream had been surprised to find was a guard and not another escort. He certainly had the look of a mech others would be willing to purchase.   
  
“Back then, I knew him as Deadlock,” Rodimus continued without prompting. “He is – or was I guess – Turmoil’s second. His most trusted Blade.”   
  
Turmoil. Ugh. So at least that part of the rumor was true. Rodimus was here because he’d crossed Turmoil. He wouldn’t be the first, but what happened to the other victims of Turmoil’s wrath was something few spoke of. It was too depressing.   
  
“How’d you get mixed up with his kind?” Starscream asked.   
  
“Like any idiot does.” Rodimus ex-vented a sigh and told his story to the window. “I was cold and hungry, and Turmoil called me the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.”   
  
Starscream scowled. “He’s a predator.”   
  
Rodimus hunched. “I didn’t know that then.” He curled into himself, adopting the same position he’d taken outside the door. “I only knew he was charming, and I couldn’t remember ever being wanted like that before.”   
  
Because that was how predators worked. They spotted the prey and knew exactly what lures would entrap them. Rodimus must have been so young. Naive. Likely unprotected. Unwanted, perhaps. Desperate even. Turmoil always did know how to snare the pretty ones.   
  
“How long did that last?”   
  
Rodimus chewed on his bottom lip. “I was trapped before I knew I should escape. By the time I realized what I’d gotten myself into, it was too late.” Another shuddery vent and he finally turned his optics toward Starscream. “I mean, I knew Turmoil was some kind of black market dealer, everyone knew that. But I thought I was special. That he was different toward me because I meant something.”   
  
Starscream’s spark clenched. It was, sadly, a story he’d heard before. There were many mechs who’d come to Blue Sun to escape a life on the streets. If one was pretty enough, skilled enough, charming enough, places like Blue Sun were one of the quickest ways to earn enough money to start a new life.   
  
Rodimus had yet to say how this Deadlock – Drift – fit into the tale.   
  
“I know that look,” Rodimus said when Starscream said nothing. “That’s the look lots of people give me. That ‘why didn’t you leave’ look. Like I had somewhere else to go that wasn’t back on the street, starving and cold all over again.” His lips curved downward, into a bitter scowl. “Turmoil was rough and an aft and possessive, but there are worse things.”   
  
“That’s not what I was thinking.” Starscream scooted closer, daring to rest a hand on Rodimus’ arm and offer his field, despite the nauseating roil of Rodimus’ own. “You’ll find a lot of mechs here know what that’s like. I’m not judging you.”   
  
“Not yet anyway.” A shudder ran across Rodimus’ frame. “You’d think I’d learned my lesson from Turmoil. That his second in command couldn’t be much better, but Primus, I was stupid. So stupid.” He scrubbed the heel of his hand against the bridge of his nasal ridge. “Offer me a drop of kindness, and that’s all it takes, because I’m an idiot.”   
  
Starscream’s spark clenched harder. He knew this self-deprecating tone. Had, in fact, fought against it all his life. It hurt to hear it coming from Rodimus, who always sounded so damn sure of himself, even when logic dictated he was a rookie.   
  
“It was innocent at first,” Rodimus said, the story pouring out of him as though he couldn’t stop himself. “Turmoil trusted Deadlock, you see. Trusted him to guard his pretty pet when he didn’t think he could trust anyone else. And Deadlock was nicer than the others. He didn’t leer at me or make snide comments about what I was.  
  
“Oh, he looked, everyone looked, but it didn’t make me feel greasy on the inside. It was more like appreciation. I felt wanted again. Like a person and not a toy.”  
  
Rodimus sucked in a shuddery breath, hiding behind his hand. “I fell for it. Just like with Turmoil. I hated Turmoil, and I wanted to get away, and I thought Deadlock was some kind of brave hero for wanting to be with me despite knowing Turmoil wouldn’t like it. He wanted to run away together, you know. And I, spark over head, certain I’d found my hero, decided it was the best idea I ever heard.”   
  
Rodimus’ shaking was more than Starscream could take. It was only getting worse. He could hear the clatter of Rodimus’ armor, and the way his optics stared bright and unseeing past the concealment of his hand was sparkbreaking. Starscream already knew where the story was going, but was helpless to stop it, as the words spilled out.   
  
“We needed credits though. Lots of them. We couldn’t get away from Turmoil’s influence without it,” Rodimus paused long enough to swallow, and it was so thick that it was audible. “Deadlock didn’t have access to them. I did. What was a little theft for freedom? For love? Besides, I figured I’d earned it. I was owed it. Turmoil wouldn’t even miss it.”   
  
Rodimus’ fans whined, and his vents made these gasping, hitching noises, but it didn’t stop him. If anything, it just spurred him on.   
  
“Deadlock was supposed to buy us tickets and supplies, everything we needed, then come back for me. Him leaving was normal, you know, while I wasn’t allowed far from Turmoil’s berth. Not without a proper escort anyway.” His optics had a damp sheen to them, his vents coming so ragged Starscream feared he’d overheat. “Deadlock never showed. I waited, and I waited, and I even worried for that aft, but he never showed up.”   
  
Rodimus looked up then, his face so bleak Starscream felt it down to his struts. “I kept waiting, thinking he would come, and when my door opened, the only one on the other side was Turmoil. And he knew exactly what I’d done.”   
  
Primus.   
  
Starscream stopped resisting. He closed the space between them and pulled Rodimus into his arms, as if his embrace could keep the rattling, violently trembling speedster together. Rodimus clung to him like a lifeline, head buried against his cockpit, still shaking.   
  
“I stole the credits,” Rodimus squeezed out, fingers gripping so tight Starscream’s plating creaked, but he didn’t have the spark to say anything. “It didn’t matter why or that I didn’t have them anymore. I had to pay them back with interest. And Turmoil knew I had no way to do that.”   
  
Starscream worked his intake. “You could have done any number of things,” he rasped, his optics shuttering as he already knew the answer. “Why send you here?”   
  
“Because if I was going to act like a whore, I might as well get paid for it.”   
  
Starscream muttered a vile curse before he could stop himself. Anger stoked itself in his belly, and every word out of Rodimus’ mouth only built the flames higher. This Deadlock, Drift, whatever he was calling himself, had quite clearly used Rodimus to escape Turmoil. Taking advantage of Rodimus’ hunger for affection and belonging.   
  
What a monster.   
  
“He’s wrong,” Starscream said, and surprised himself with the fierceness of it, his embrace tightening around Rodimus. “The only mistake you made was having faith in the wrong people, Rodimus. Turmoil is filth. Scum. And this Deadlock is no better.”   
  
Rodimus’ vents hitched. “That’s not even the worst part.” He sounded absolutely miserable, static leaking into every glyph.   
  
Starscream worked his jaw. “Tell me.”   
  
“I still believed in him, you know,” Rodimus said, barely above a whisper, a secret he couldn’t bear to tell. “Even after Turmoil dumped me here, I believed Deadlock would come back for me. So when I first saw him, for a moment, I thought I’d been right.”   
  
Starscream ex-vented a soft sigh. His field encapsulated Rodimus, a buffer to keep out the darkness and soothe the pain emanating from Rodimus’ field.   
  
“But I’m wrong. Then and now. He doesn’t care. He never did. And I’m still stuck here.” Rodimus’ vents hitched, his fingers digging hard into seams, hard enough to make Starscream wince. “Still stupidly hoping I’m worth something.”   
  
 _To someone._    
  
Though the latter went unsaid, Starscream knew what Rodimus meant. He’d felt the ache of that desire as well. He’d not clawed his way into an education because it was easy. He’d done it because he wanted it. and everyone told him he couldn’t.   
  
“That’s because you  _are_ ,” Starscream said, and surprised himself with the fierceness of his reply.   
  
Rodimus shook his head, face rubbing against Starscream’s cockpit before he looked up. “I’m not like you. I’m not good at anything. I’m not smart. This really is all I’m good for.” His optics were watery, barren, and they broke Starscream’s spark. “Turmoil was right.”   
  
“No, he wasn’t,” Starscream insisted and cupped Rodimus’ face so that he couldn’t look away. “You have potential. You just haven’t had the chance to figure it out. Those two slaggers aren’t worth it, Roddy. They aren’t.”   
  
Rodimus vented, shuddery though it was. “I can’t do it,” he said, on the edge of a gasp. “I can’t stay here and see him every day. It’s like that moment all over again, realizing I wasn’t worth enough for him to come back for.”   
  
Starscream swallowed thickly and let Rodimus lower his face, tucking it back under Starscream’s chin. “We’ll figure something out,” he said. “Between me and Sunstreaker, we’ll think of something.”   
  
Though it did beg the question why Deadlock – or Drift, whatever – was here in the first place. Starscream highly doubted it was to rescue Rodimus. There was some other reason Drift had come here, to a place Turmoil and his cronies were known to frequent, similar enough to his Deadlock-self that Rodimus immediately recognized him.   
  
Something didn’t sit quite right about it, but now was not the time to ponder why. He had to take care of Rodimus first.   
  
The door to their suite pinged. Sunstreaker, most likely. He’d gotten Starscream’s warning and did the polite thing by requesting entry rather than letting himself inside.   
  
Rodimus snuggled into Starscream’s arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.   
  
Starscream blinked, distracted from the door. “For what?”   
  
Silence greeted the answer. If anything, Rodimus just burrowed deeper, as though he could hide in the safety of Starscream’s arms.   
  
“Rodimus?”   
  
Fingers stroked along his seams. “Can I stay here tonight?” Rodimus asked, changing the subject. “After shift, I mean.”   
  
The door pinged again.   
  
Starscream cupped Rodimus’ head. “You can stay as long as you like,” he murmured, his spark breaking for the newbie he’d accidentally adopted. “But Rodimus, Sunstreaker wants to come in. Is that all right?”   
  
“It’s his room.” Rodimus tensed a little in Starscream’s arms, but his iron-grip loosened. “And I know better than to think this’ll stay a secret for long anyway.”   
  
“You’d be surprised.”   
  
Starscream remotely unlocked the door, and Sunstreaker immediately came inside, his face lined with concern. It changed to confusion when he saw Rodimus, and he shot a look at Starscream, who shook his head and gestured Sunstreaker over.   
  
“It’s a long story,” Starscream said and sighed. He kept idly stroking Rodimus, relieved that the gentle sweeps of his hand seemed to be calming Rodimus’ frenetic field. “I need to tell Streamline Rodimus won’t be on the floor today.”   
  
“I can do that,” Sunstreaker replied. His expression softened as he looked at Rodimus.   
  
Starscream almost grinned. He knew his roommate had a soft spot for Rodimus, even if he wouldn’t show it.   
  
“No, I’ve two clients scheduled today so I have to go regardless. This is your rest day. Take it.”   
  
“I can still work,” Rodimus said, muffled against Starscream’s chassis.   
  
“Not in this state you can’t,” Sunstreaker said with a growl. He plopped down on the windowseat behind Rodimus, in the narrow space still available. “That field of yours is in no condition to entertain, and it’s not something you can just rein in and push down.”   
  
“You won’t be punished either,” Starscream said, guessing part of Rodimus’ worry as well. No doubt Turmoil had left some kind of guidelines for Streamline as to how Rodimus should work to fulfill his debt. “I’ll make sure of it.”   
  
Rodimus leaned back, looking up at Starscream, and his wrecked expression made it clear Sunstreaker’s assessment was correct. “Don’t take punishment for me either.” His lower lip wobbled.   
  
Starscream wanted to kiss his worries away, but knew it wouldn’t work. So instead he cupped Rodimus’ face and brushed the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip.   
  
“Oh, they don’t dare punish me. I make them too much money,” Starscream said with a smirk. “So you just stay here and let Sunstreaker pamper you.”   
  
Rodimus’ optics widened, his mouth opened as if to protest.   
  
“Which he  _will_ ,” Starscream said before Rodimus could argue contrary to the point. Starscream had already seen the look in Sunstreaker’s optics. He was angry on Rodimus’ behalf, even without knowing the whole story. “And I’ll take care of the rest.”   
  
Rodimus stared at him for a long, searching moment before he finally nodded. “Okay,” he said, like a youngling who’d been told the monster under his berth wasn’t real, and he believed his caretakers because they wouldn’t lie, would they?   
  
Lies, they were. The monster was real, it just didn’t hide under berths.   
  
Starscream smiled softly and reluctantly disentangled himself from Rodimus’ arms. The speedster had only a moment to look bereft before Sunstreaker snatched him up, folding the younger mech into an embrace Rodimus probably never knew him capable of offering.   
  
Rodimus squawked, squirming about at first, until he found himself in the cradle of Sunstreaker’s frame. He was warm and cozy, his head tucked under Sunstreaker’s chin.   
  
“Hush,” Sunstreaker said gruffly, his arms wrapped like a protective barrier around Rodimus. “Just this once, rookie.”   
  
They looked adorable, Starscream had to admit. He leaned in brushing his lips over Sunstreaker’s cheek and murmured into his partner’s audial, “Comm me if you need me. And be nice.”   
  
“I’m always nice,” Sunstreaker muttered, but his arms visibly tightened around Rodimus. His field rose up, stroking over the frazzled edges of Rodimus’ poking back at him.   
  
“Nicer then,” Starscream said with a roll of his optics.   
  
He hesitated, not wanting to leave Rodimus in such a fragile state, but knowing he couldn’t miss his appointments or Streamline would be furious. He needed Streamline on his side right now, to get Rodimus out of this without punishment, and without it getting back to Turmoil.   
  
Starscream had no doubts Turmoil wanted his former lover to be humiliated and degraded as much as possible. Which explained a lot actually. Explained why Rodimus had been so clueless, why his first clients for months had been such bullies, why he’d earned so little. Why he’d always returned to the viewing room looking like a banged up mess and why there never seemed to be a complaint on file against his clients.   
  
They were, if Starscream recalled, mostly Turmoil’s cronies. Who probably didn’t even pay for their time with Rodimus.   
  
Starscream ground his denta, anger flaring anew. He’d speak to Streamline, and then he’d see if he could find this Drift and corner him. Whatever plans Drift had, he needed to know how to behave. Rodimus wasn’t without protectors anymore. No one was going to hurt him while Starscream was around.   
  
No one.   
  
Mechs came to Blue Sun for all sorts of reasons. For some, it was even a haven of sorts. A hideaway from whatever they were running from. Rodimus might be one of the few who had no choice in the matter, but Starscream wouldn’t stand for seeing him suffer during the length of his tenure.   
  
Clearly, he’d suffered enough.  
  
“I’ll be back later,” Starscream said as he gave himself a quick onceover in the mirror. He was presentable, perhaps not polished to perfection, but his client for the evening would be fine with it.   
  
Blurr never cared for the pomp and circumstance anyway. All he sought was his overloads, as abundantly as possible. Starscream didn’t need to look pretty for those. It took hardly anything to arouse the racer as it was. Thank Primus Starscream had energy to spare, thanks to his overlarge spark, because he was the only one in Blue Sun who could keep up with Blurr.   
  
“We’ll be here,” Sunstreaker said.   
  
Rodimus had finally relaxed in Sunstreaker’s embrace. “Not going anywhere.”   
  
Good.   
  
Satisfied, Starscream excused himself from the room, locking it behind him such that only he or Sunstreaker could enter. He headed downstairs to the reception room, contacting Streamline along the way. He might have fibbed a little, about Rodimus coming down with a virus, nothing to worry about, it would pass in a day or two. But perhaps they should screen their incoming clientele a bit better.   
  
Streamline bought it. Of course, he would. It was a problem Blue Sun had faced a time or two. Mechs who were ill, pretending they weren’t because they wanted an overload and didn’t care if they infected their partner to get it. There were screening protocols, but if mechs lied or the screeners were lazy, nothing could be helped.   
  
That took care of Rodimus for a day or two. Now to find Drift.   
  
Most of the guards would be strategically posted around the reception room, keeping an optic on the browsing customers. Two would be placed outside the door, as deterrent for would-be thieves or to help discourage those who only wanted to window-shop. A few would be charged with screening customers, but Starscream doubted Streamline would assign a new hire to that important task.   
  
Starscream paused at the top of the ramp which descended into the receiving area. Low music was already playing, and the sound of interested conversation was a murmur below the soft melody. Starscream, luckily, did not have to be available for browsing as he was already booked, which allowed him the luxury of scanning the crowd, looking for a certain mech.   
  
He spotted Drift by the balcony, standing attentively, hand resting on one of his sword hilts as he scanned the crowd for signs of danger. Well, at least he was taking this job seriously. Though given what Rodimus had told Starscream, he wondered again why this Drift was here. Surely there were other jobs. If he were truly hiding from Turmoil, this was not the place to do it.   
  
Everyone knew Turmoil and Streamline were business partners. It was as if Drift was here asking for trouble.   
  
Starscream headed straight for Drift, dodging prospective clients as he did with apologetic smiles. Drift noticed him immediately, straightening as Starscream approached.   
  
Planting a smile on his face, fake though it was, Starscream wriggled his fingers in a little wave. “Welcome to Blue Sun!”   
  
Drift grinned in return. “Thanks!” he said, and squinted at Starscream, something sharp and assessing in the look. “You’re Starscream, right?”   
  
His optics narrowed. “How did you know?” Starscream demanded as he crossed his arms over his chassis.   
  
“I made it a point to memorize all the profiles of the escorts when I was hired. Best to be informed, you know.” Drift scratched at his chin, his grin easygoing. A little too calm, if you asked Starscream.   
  
None of Streamline’s hired cronies ever bothered to actually pay that much attention to their jobs. Most made a point of memorizing the Blue Sun stamp every escort carried and that was it. Only those with the longest tenure could actually recognize the escorts on sight.   
  
Suspicious.   
  
Starscream barely kept from sneering. “Did you now? Then I suppose you must have recognized a familiar face among the photos.”   
  
It was Drift’s turn for his optics to narrow. “Not sure what you mean.” His playful attitude tightened into something else.   
  
“Oh, a liar as well as a thief,” Starscream purred. He cocked a hip, grinning without amusement. “Not surprised, given what I’ve been told about you. But since you’re feigning ignorance allow me to enlighten you.” He leaned forward, rather pleased that he had half a head over the new guard. “Rodimus.”   
  
Drift was good, but he couldn’t hide the way his finials twitched, or the hitch in his ventilations. “It’s impossible,” he said. “There’s no way Rodimus would be here.”   
  
“And just what did you think would happen after you stole from Turmoil and left him to take the fall, huh?” Starscream drew up straight, wings hitching high and tight. He lifted a hand, poking a taloned finger at Drift’s chassis. “He’s here because of you, slagger. And if you so much as look at him, I will tear your face off, do you understand me?”   
  
“That should be Roddy’s decision, not yours!” Drift hissed, betraying a mouthful of sharpened denta.   
  
Ah, there it was, the hint of a mech who had been Deadlock, a trusted Blade to a piece of scum like Turmoil. He bristled, menace rising around him, a rather dark menace as only someone who had worked with Turmoil could carry.   
  
“You have no right to call him that,” Starscream snapped. He kept his voice low, so as not to attract attention. “Listen to me well,  _Deadlock_. Here, I have more power than you, and here, you do what I say. And I say that you stay away from him.”   
  
Drift cycled a sharp ventilation and reared back, his finials tilting forward. “I want to talk to him.”   
  
“Well, he doesn’t want to talk to you. So I suggest you do him a favor, like you couldn’t bother to before, and leave him alone.” Starscream took a step back, not retreating, but dismissing Drift from his attention. “Or I’ll make you wish Turmoil found you after I’m through with you.”   
  
He didn’t wait for Drift to reply. His warning was clear enough.   
  
Starscream spun on a heel and strode away from Drift, holding his head up high. Blurr would be here soon, and the rest of Starscream’s evening would be spent in a haze of overloads, mostly on the racer’s end.   
  
Starscream had no more thoughts to spare on Drift. His concern was for Rodimus alone. So when he returned to his hab tonight, curling up with Sunstreaker and Rodimus both, he could reassure Rodimus he had nothing to worry about.   
  
Drift would upset him no more. Starscream swore it.   
  


****


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another heavy chapter, folks, with discussions of potentially triggering content. Read with caution.

For two weeks, he managed to avoid Deadlock. Drift. Whatever he was calling himself these days.   
  
Starscream’s little talk must have worked. Or maybe it just helped that Starscream was always around. And if not him, Sunstreaker was an effective deterrent. Probably even more so. Everyone knew how much sway Sunstreaker had around Blue Sun.   
  
Rodimus did his job and pretended he didn’t know Drift. He felt the optics watching him. He let himself be curious for half a klik, until he looked around and remembered where he was. And who was to blame.   
  
Blue Sun, however, was only so large. It was inevitable their paths might cross despite Rodimus’ efforts. All it took was a miscalculation – and Drift switching posts with someone apparently.   
  
Rodimus came out of the library with a handful of vidtracks in his subspace. He intended to spend the rest of his off-shift parked in front of a vidscreen, a pile of unhealthy snacks beside him, before he had to get to the sales floor for the late night shift. He wasn’t at all on guard. Drift should have been on outside patrol duty. Rodimus had checked the roster.   
  
Instead, Drift was in the corridor outside the library. Waiting. Arms crossed, braced on the wall, optics locked on the door.   
  
Rodimus froze in the doorway, until the sensor honked at him to move his aft. Backing up would leave him trapped. At least the hallway gave him room to escape. Besides, he wasn’t afraid. He was stronger than this.   
  
Rodimus stepped forward, the door clicking shut behind him. Drift straightened, optics focusing on him.   
  
“Can we talk?” Drift asked, voice soft and gentle, like it had been those nights when he’d filled the gouges in Rodimus’ paint, and treated him so sweetly.   
  
Rodimus scowled to chase away the unwelcome reminder. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” He squared his shoulders, whipping on a mantle of self-assurance.   
  
He edged down the hall, away from Drift, toward anywhere that wasn’t here.   
  
“Then you don’t have to talk. Just listen.” Drift moved with him, following him, predator after prey. He sounded earnest.   
  
But then, Rodimus supposed he was a damn good actor. He’d certainly fooled Rodimus good enough. He couldn’t blame it entirely on being naive.   
  
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” Rodimus spat over his shoulder and increased his pace. He wanted to put as much space between himself and Drift as possible. Just get somewhere Drift wasn’t.   
  
“Roddy, please!”   
  
Drift’s fingers wrapped around his arm, firm, unyielding, dragging him to a halt. Rodimus startled, his spark thumping in his chassis. He didn’t think; he reacted.   
  
“Get your hand off me!” He jerked his arm free of Drift’s grip. “Don’t call me that either!”   
  
Drift held up his hands and backed up a step. “Fine, I won’t,” he said, his tone oddly calm and quiet. “Will you just listen to me. Please?”   
  
“Why should I?”   
  
“Because I can’t apologize if you aren’t around to hear it.”   
  
Rodimus’ entire frame froze. “Apologize?” His spark shrank into a tight ball, aching in his chassis. “ _Apologize_? After what you did to me, you think you can just apologize and that’s enough?”   
  
Drift scrubbed a hand down his face. “You don’t understand. I never meant--”  
  
Rodimus’ engine growled as anger spiked bright and hot inside of him. “Frag you!” His vents heaved, and his hands curled into fists. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. You have no idea what Turmoil did to me. None! Your apology is worthless.”   
  
He was horrified by the tremors in his voice, the heat in his optics. Damn it.   
  
Drift’s intake bobbed. He shifted his weight, his armor fluttering over his frame. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t. But if you let me explain--”  
  
“Boiler,” Rodimus bit out, interrupting Drift yet again because he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t stand here and listen to Drift come up with some lie or some half-truth or even a full truth to explain himself. Not when he had no idea.   
  
Drift blinked, confusion writ across his face, because of course. Why wouldn’t he be confused? He’d gotten away with the creds, with his dignity, with his own frame intact. He’d ran far and fast from Turmoil’s anger.   
  
He’d left Rodimus behind to bear the brunt of it.   
  
“What?” Drift tilted his head, optics cycling in and out.   
  
Rodimus sucked in a shaky ventilation, his knees quivering beneath him, but he’d be damned if he slumped against the wall.   
  
“Roughroad,” he ground out, his spark hammering so hard he swore he could hear every thump of it. “Cork. Antimony. Slicer. Playback.” He worked his jaw, his armor starting to rattle, from the tips of his feet to the tips of his finials. “Maelstrom. Gate. Spire.”   
  
Drift’s optics grew wider and wider. He reared back, his finials canting backward as well, color draining from his face. “Roddy, you don’t--”  
  
“Firestorm!” Rodimus almost shouted, were it not for the fact he didn’t want anyone to hear this, the list of his humiliation. His voice crackled, and he didn’t bother to reset it. “Hexic. Backfire.” His hands formed aching fists, the last name the worst of all. “ _Lode_.”   
  
Rodimus’ vents heaved. His optics felt hot.   
  
Drift’s armor had drawn so tight against his frame, not a peek of cables could be seen. His optics bleached of color. His lips pressed together in a thin line. Rodimus couldn’t catch a whiff of his energy field.   
  
Drift didn’t even have the decency to stink of shame.   
  
“If I counted the mechs who were more than happy to help punish their boss’s whore, my vocalizer would fry,” Rodimus said, his tone so cold he surprised himself. He felt outside of his frame, like he was disconnected from it and this moment. Who even was he anymore?   
  
Nothing. No one. Just the object Turmoil made him.   
  
He shook. His armor rattled. He had to keep going; he couldn’t stop now. Drift had to learn. He had to know how much he wasn’t welcome.   
  
“So you can take your explanations, your apologies, your lies, whatever you want to call them, and you can frag off,” Rodimus spat.   
  
His shoulders shook. His vents heaved. His vision swam, and he should probably reboot his optical feed, but that was effort. More than he had to give. He felt drained, wiped of energy.   
  
Drift had yet to speak. That was probably for the best. Rodimus was the only one who had any right to talk right now.   
  
“I don’t know why you’re here, and I don’t care.” Rodimus took a step back, cold seeping through his internals. “Just do what you’re good at and leave me alone. Got it?”   
  
Drift ex-vented, loud and rattling. “… I never meant to hurt you,” he said, so quiet Rodimus almost didn’t catch it. He stared at the ground, like he didn’t have the bearings to meet Rodimus’ optics.   
  
“Frag you and your intentions,” Rodimus snarled.   
  
He spun and stalked down the hallway before his composure failed him and he collapsed like a rusty support beam. Heat and ice alternately sluiced through his lines, and he thought he might rattle right out of his armor.   
  
He couldn’t go back to his own suite like this. He didn’t want either of his roommates to see him in this state.   
  
His feet carried him upward instead. His spark drew him to the only place in the entire building that offered solace. He found himself in front of Starscream’s door without making the conscious decision. His hands shook so badly that when he rang the chime, he hit it more than once.   
  
The door opened, but it wasn’t Starscream on the other side. It was Sunstreaker.   
  
Rodimus’ spark dropped into his tanks. There was only one other person in Blue Sun he’d have preferred not to see him like this, and of course, it was the one mech currently standing in front of him.   
  
“He’s with a client,” Sunstreaker said, optics dim as he rubbed at the corner of one. His plating was half-fluffed, and there was a smear on one of his armor panels.   
  
He’d been recharging.   
  
Rodimus stared at him, thoughts crashing like a thousand ball bearings. “Oh,” he said.   
  
He should leave. He should turn around and go. But where? There was nowhere left. He felt lost, adrift. He should apologize and walk away, but he didn’t know if his feet would actually carry him anymore.   
  
“Um.” Rodimus shifted his weight, heard his engine hiccup, which was all the more humiliating. There was an obnoxious rattling noise, too, and he realized much too late that it was coming from him.   
  
“Come on,” Sunstreaker said with a sigh. He stepped aside. “You look like slag.”   
  
“Yeah.” Rodimus swept a shaking hand over his head. “I need to… wash and wax probably. Was going to go back to my room. Was going to clean up, but then I got distracted and now I’m here and--”  
  
“Rodimus.”   
  
He flushed and ducked his head. He slipped into the room, his name like a chastisement sitting on his shoulders.   
  
“I know. I’m babbling.”   
  
Sunstreaker shut the door behind him. “What happened?” he asked, and his voice sounded strange. Soft. Concerned even.   
  
Clearly, Rodimus was losing his mind.   
  
“Nothing.” He planted a grin on his face and propped his hands on his hips, hoping he put a jaunty tilt to his spoiler as well. He was getting very good at pretending. “I even got a tip this time. Starscream’s lesson’s have really paid off.”   
  
Sunstreaker stared at him. Optics narrowed. And then he crossed the floor, snatching Rodimus’ wrist as he did, yanking his hand off his hip. He towed Rodimus toward the washrack without a word, his grip as unyielding as duryllium cuffs.   
  
“What’re you doing?” Rodimus spluttered.   
  
“If I leave this mess to you, it’ll embarrass the both of us,” Sunstreaker said as he pulled Rodimus straight inside and swung him toward the stool in the center. “Sit.”   
  
Rodimus obeyed. It was so ingrained in him now. He hated himself for obeying Sunstreaker, but sometimes, the older mech had a tone that allowed no argument. Now was such a time.   
  
Rodimus blamed Drift. If he hadn’t left Rodimus feeling so off-balance, maybe he could have put up more of a fight.   
  
Sunstreaker unspooled the extendable hose with sprayer attachment and circled around Rodimus as though examining him for the best point of attack.   
  
“Be still,” he said.   
  
Rodimus, who admittedly had been squirming, sighed and forced himself to freeze. Being still was not a natural state of being for him. He wanted to fidget, and the best he could manage without irritating Sunstreaker was to subtly tap his foot.   
  
“So,” Sunstreaker said as the first splash of sudsy water spilled down Rodimus’ back. “You going to tell me what’s wrong?”   
  
Rodimus opened his mouth, another denial on his lips.   
  
“The truth,” Sunstreaker added before Rodimus could get out a word. “It was Drift, wasn’t it?”   
  
Sometimes, Sunstreaker could be fairly perceptive when he wanted to be. Oh, he was totally blind when it came to Starscream’s feelings for him, but he could figure out other secrets stupidly quick.   
  
Rodimus’ shoulders slumped. He planted the heels of his hand on the stool between his thighs and leaned forward. “Yeah. He cornered me.” He stared at the tile, and the suds swirling down the drain.   
  
“Why?”   
  
He focused on the patter of warm solvent, the way it trickled over his cables, smoothed against tight joints and gears. “He said he wanted to apologize.”   
  
“You don’t believe him?”   
  
Rodimus snorted. His fingers curled around the lip of the stool. “Would you?”   
  
Sunstreaker stepped to his side, spray gentle as it rinsed over Rodimus’ left arm and leg. “He came here for a reason.”   
  
“Yeah, well, whatever it was, it wasn’t for me.” Rodimus’ spoiler flicked, the suds tickling over his hinges. “Slagger didn’t even know I was here.” He scowled at the tile.   
  
There was a moment of silence. A long one actually. Sunstreaker moved to Rodimus’ right side, rinsing him down, and then he slid in front of Rodimus. Wordlessly, Rodimus straightened and held his arms up so the yellow mech could soak his front in solvent. He kept his gaze to the side, however.   
  
He didn’t want to see the judgment in Sunstreaker’s optics.   
  
Sunstreaker thumbed off the spray. In the silence, the drip-drip of the stream easing was all too loud.   
  
“Did you want him to?” Sunstreaker asked, his voice oddly soft. Gentle. Like Rodimus was a stray voltaic cat hiding in the shadows of an alley.   
  
Rodimus squirmed and forced himself to look at Sunstreaker, though it went against every grain in his frame. “Would you think less of me if I did?” he asked, and his voice crackled with static. He hated himself for betraying that weakness to someone.   
  
Particularly Sunstreaker.   
  
The other mech stared at him for a long moment, and then the next thing Rodimus knew, he was swept into Sunstreaker’s embrace, solvent-suds and all. He froze, not sure what to do, until Sunstreaker didn’t let go, and his engine turned over into a soft, comforting purr. His arms were gentle, and the touch of his field was light.   
  
Soothing.   
  
It was weird. But the last thing Rodimus wanted was for Sunstreaker to let him go. Maybe he should feel pathetic, getting comforted by Sunstreaker.   
  
He didn’t.   
  
“You are an exasperating newbie who talks too much and could use a Pit of a lot more training,” Sunstreaker said.   
  
Rodimus sighed and knocked his forehead against Sunstreaker’s clavical strut. “Gee. Thanks.”   
  
“I’m not finished.”   
  
Sunstreaker slipped back from the embrace, and he cupped Rodimus’ face between his palms. “But I have never thought of you as less or worthless, whatever your reasons for coming here. You’re not to blame for loving anyone, and it’s never foolish to hope.”   
  
For a moment, Rodimus wondered who Sunstreaker was trying to convince more.   
  
He worked his intake, his optics unexpectedly hot. “Why are you being so nice to me?”   
  
“Because no one’s watching.” Sunstreaker grinned, more a smirk, just to show he was teasing.   
  
He kissed Rodimus’ forehead and let go, picking up the hose again, but this time switching it to rinse.   
  
Rodimus was touched, despite himself. It was so rare for Sunstreaker to be so kind. He intended to soak it up as long as he could.   
  
“You can hide here as long as you want,” Sunstreaker continued as he rinsed down Rodimus’ frame in quick, efficient sweeps of the spray. “Starscream will be back later.”   
  
“I have to be on the floor later. And I don’t think Streamline’s gonna buy another infection.” Rodimus didn’t really feel like trying to entice a customer tonight, but his debt to Turmoil wasn’t going to clear itself either. Not to mention he didn’t want Drift to get even a whiff of how much his presence affected Rodimus.   
  
Sunstreaker whipped out a towel and started wiping down his armor with the sort of precision that professional detailers utilized. “Relax until then. Take a nap. Get yourself together. You’re a professional, Rodimus. Remember that.”   
  
For once, it didn’t sound like a chastisement.   
  
“Service with a smile,” Rodimus echoed. It had been one of Starscream’s first lessons. No matter what they were feeling inside, they treated their clients to the best of their abilities, and always with a smile.   
  
“Even if you feel dead inside,” Sunstreaker agreed in a dry tone.   
  
He’d added it back then, too, making Starscream roll his optics and turn his back on his roommate with a harrumph. Sunstreaker had flicked Starscream’s wings playfully, and it had almost devolved into more of their flirting-that-wasn’t.   
  
Rodimus chuckled and let himself be pampered. “Because that’s the Blue Sun way,” he said.   
  
That’s the Blue Sun way.   
  


~

  
  
Sunstreaker slipped out of his room, leaving Rodimus napping in Starscream’s berth, sprawled out over the surface like it was his to begin with. He was cutest when he was sleeping, Sunstreaker decided. It made him look younger, softer, a little innocent.   
  
It was when he was awake and opened his mouth that he was a lot less attractive.   
  
Now.   
  
To find Drift.   
  
Sunstreaker had an idea of where to look. He and Starscream had been doing their best to keep tabs on Drift’s whereabouts to help Rodimus avoid the mech. But if Drift had cornered Rodimus today, he must have changed his schedule to an offshift. Which meant he’d be loitering in the guards communal quarters.   
  
Sunstreaker rounded a corner, and abruptly stopped.   
  
So did Starscream, who frowned with disapproval. “You’re supposed to be resting. Don’t you have a session with the senator tonight?”   
  
“I do and I will,” Sunstreaker replied as he moved in close, catching a whiff of freshly fragged Seeker – and frustrated, too, going by Starscream’s energy field. “Got something to take care of first though.” He slid his fingers over Starscream’s shoulder, tracing a seam. “Good client?”   
  
Starscream’s engine dipped into a purr. He leaned into Sunstreaker’s touch, like a Praxian crystal toward the light of Luna-1. “Sideswipe again.” He nuzzled under Sunstreaker’s chin, a cat demanding pets. “I really think I’m going to suggest he schedules you though. No one pulls off that humiliation kink better than you.”   
  
Humiliation, huh? A pretty rare kink for the disgustingly wealthy. Usually those types wanted to be worshiped and adored, not degraded. Interesting.   
  
“But he’s one of your highest paid patrons,” Sunstreaker said.   
  
“And when he wants a pretty thing to writhe under him, I’ll still be here.” Starscream grinned and flirted his fingers over Sunstreaker’s belly.   
  
There was something in his optics though. Something that didn’t quite settle right. It was more than wanting a client to have a better experience.   
  
Something Sideswipe wanted was more than Starscream was willing to give. He was a good Dom when he put his processor to it, but clients rarely hired him for it. He was a Seeker. They preferred to see him on his back or on his knees. Flavors of humiliation had never been Starscream’s favorite, but whatever Sideswipe wanted, it must have been over that edge for his Seeker.   
  
Very well.   
  
Sunstreaker tilted his head against Starscream’s. “I trust your judgment. Send him my way and I’ll make sure he gets a slot.” Booked solid most of the time, Sunstreaker tended to only get new clients through recommendations.   
  
Starscream pressed a kiss to the corner of Sunstreaker’s mouth. “Thanks, Sunshine.” His fingers walked up Sunstreaker’s chestplate, palm landing flat against it. “Now I have to get cleaned up before I hit the floor.”   
  
“Your stray’s on your berth,” Sunstreaker informed him as he captured Starscream’s hand and brought it up to his mouth, lips brushing over the tips of his fingers.   
  
“Rodimus? Why?” Starscream’s wings flicked as his face turned stormy, his field surging outward. “Did something happen?”   
  
Sunstreaker kissed his fingertips. “Nothing I’m not going to handle,” he said, and added a growl from his engine, a pulse of his energy field. There were few escorts in Blue Sun with as much sway as Sunstreaker.   
  
He would find Rodimus peace somehow.   
  
Starscream chuckled. “I knew you had a soft spot for him.”   
  
“Just don’t tell anyone.” Sunstreaker squeezed Starscream’s fingers, resisting the urge to draw them deeper into his mouth. They were yet in public. “Merge with me tonight?” He was going to need the boost after today.   
  
A visible shiver rippled across his Seeker’s frame. His optics darkened in hue, field turning warm and silken. “I’ll save you some charge.”   
  
“You’d better.” Sunstreaker leaned in, brushing his lips over Starscream’s, and was unsurprised when Starscream grabbed the back of his head and deepened the kiss. His glossa flicked out, teasing Sunstreaker’s, and he hummed in his intake.   
  
Naughty Seeker.   
  
Starscream nipped at his lips and drew back. “More of that later,” he purred, and teased his fingers around Sunstreaker’s helm vent. “I’m thinking the cuffs tonight. And your choice of accessory.”   
  
A shiver danced up Sunstreaker’s backstrut. “It’s a date.”   
  
Starscream drew away with one last kiss, and Sunstreaker watched him go, wishing he wasn’t on a mission and he could follow the Seeker back to their room. They’d boot Rodimus out of the berth, or let him watch, and Sunstreaker would ravish Starscream to his spark’s content.   
  
It was not to be.   
  
Sunstreaker swallowed a sigh and made his way to the lift, ignoring other escorts as he passed. He had few friends or allies here. His status was well-known, but it didn’t make for friendly encounters. Some loathed him. Others feared him. More distrusted him.   
  
He didn’t talk about himself. He didn’t share his history, his future, his hopes, his dreams. He didn’t park his aft in the break room and gossip and trade gifts. He kept to himself, and that made him suspect.   
  
Sunstreaker didn’t particularly care.   
  
Blue Sun would always be here. The other escorts came and went. Sunstreaker stayed. He would always stay. He would never leave.   
  
He couldn’t afford his medical care otherwise.   
  
Sunstreaker sighed and folded his arms. He didn’t know why he bothered talking about hope to Rodimus when he had none of his own. Starscream would leave eventually, too. Just like all the others. There was little point in wishing for a different outcome.   
  
And yet.   
  
The lift donged, depositing him in the basement. Sunstreaker stepped into the dimly lit corridors. The guards were important to Blue Sun, but they weren’t directly involved in profits. They had the worst accommodations, but if you asked Sunstreaker, it was better than living on the street.   
  
Just outside the elevator bay was a huge recreation room, a place for the guards to mingle, relax, refuel, entertain themselves et cetera. It was where most of them tended to gather when they weren’t recharging in the singlets, which better resembled closets as they were only big enough for a berth and the storage trunk beneath.   
  
He found Drift easily. Turmoil’s former Blade was perched in the lonesome corner table. He had his swords laid out in front of him, and a sharpening and polishing set nearby.   
  
If he thought it was intimidating enough to keep others away, he was sorely mistaken.   
  
Sunstreaker crossed the room in several swift strides. He accumulated a fair share of confused and curious stares, but he ignored them all. They were unimportant.   
  
He approached the table, keeping it between himself and Drift. The guard didn’t look up at him, but he did sigh as he swept a whetstone over the edge of one of his blades.   
  
“Is it your turn to threaten me now?”   
  
Sunstreaker silently pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it. He stared at Drift, trying to read the mech’s expression. A trial in itself since Drift had yet to look up at him.   
  
He was aware he only had Rodimus’ side of the story. He suspected there was more beneath the surface. Some reason for events to have transpired the way that they did.   
  
Drift, at last, scowled and looked up. “Are you going to actually say something or did you just come here to glare?” His optics flashed.   
  
Blue, Sunstreaker noted, but an odd cast to them. As if they weren’t always blue. He was a handsome mech, too. Probably because of his rebuild, which he would have had to get to be relatively unidentifiable around here. Though Rodimus had recognized him easy enough.   
  
Then again, they said intimacy bred familiarity.   
  
“Why are you here?” Sunstreaker finally asked.   
  
Drift frowned. “None of your business.” His hand lingered on his sword, but the motion didn’t seem threatening. More offhand.   
  
“Right now, I’m the only one interested in giving you half a chance,” Sunstreaker retorted and sat back in his chair, effecting a lazy sprawl. “Do you actually want to throw that away?”   
  
Drift’s scowl deepened. The whetstone scraped over the edge with a loud rasp. The background chatter seemed to quiet as though many audials were straining to eavesdrop. It was very rare for one of the escorts to venture down into guard territory.   
  
Even rarer for it to be Sunstreaker.   
  
“Ready to try again?” Sunstreaker asked.   
  
A loud puff of a sigh burst from Drift’s vents. “It’s still none of your business,” he said, but it was less petulant this time. “It’s also best if you don’t know.”   
  
Blue optics flicked up to Sunstreaker with warning, and then back down to his blade. He set the whetstone aside and exchanged it for the bottle of polishing oil and a thick cloth.   
  
Hm.   
  
Sunstreaker chewed on that for a moment before he tilted his head. “Rodimus has nothing to do with it, does he?” he asked, already knowing the answer.   
  
“I didn’t know he was here.” Drift’s voice dropped in volume, conversational, too quiet for others to overhear but enough for Sunstreaker to pick it up. “It was as much a shock to me as it was to him.”   
  
“What did you think would happen?”   
  
Drift nibbled on his bottom lip – sharpened front denta, Sunstreaker noticed, though they’d been blunted – and glanced up at Sunstreaker. “What did he tell you?”   
  
Sunstreaker lifted his orbital ridges. “It doesn’t matter. I want to know your side.”   
  
“Why do you care?”   
  
“Because right now, I’m the one you need to convince.” Sunstreaker folded his arms over his chestplate. “Starscream threatens.” He leaned forward, optics narrowed. “I promise.”   
  
Drift worked his jaw and looked down at his sword. The oiled cloth slid over and over the length of the blade. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear.”   
  
He paused. His glossa ran over his lips.   
  
“Go on,” Sunstreaker prodded.   
  
However difficult this might be for Drift, it was a thousand times more for Rodimus. At the moment, Sunstreaker had no sympathy.   
  
“Everyone knew Rodimus was Turmoil’s favorite. He had a half-dozen toys, not that Roddy knew that, but we all knew Rodimus was his favorite,” Drift explained, his optics downcast, his plating drawn tight. “I figured all the heat would land on me, and he’d be fine. Roddy’s a survivor, same as me.”   
  
Sunstreaker’s lip curled with disgust. “You were Turmoil’s Blade. You should’ve known better. You honestly thought Turmoil would forgive and forget?”   
  
He was a special kind of stupid, wasn’t he?  
  
“Turmoil doesn’t forgive,” Drift stated flatly, his optics dim. “I really did intend to come back for Roddy, you know.” He sighed and looked up, his finials canting forward. “But my contact vanished, and it cost more to reframe then I expected.”   
  
He nibbled on his bottom lip as though weighing the truth and a lie, before he settled on his answer, “I actually figured Rodimus would turn me over. I mean, he’s cute, and we had fun, but I thought that was it. I didn’t know he thought it was more.”   
  
“Then you’re an idiot,” Sunstreaker growled. “And a fool.” He unfolded his arms and rose to his feet.   
  
He’d heard enough. Yes, Drift hadn’t intended to use Rodimus and leave him to deal with Turmoil’s fury, but he was still to blame. The road to the Pit was paved with Intention, and Rodimus’ path was littered with it.   
  
“You believe me?”  
  
“I believe you were both prisoners in your own ways, and you both made terrible choices,” Sunstreaker started.   
  
Drift had the audacity to look relieved.   
  
Sunstreaker didn’t allow it for long.   
  
“But I also think Rodimus suffered the most,” Sunstreaker continued. He braced his hands on the table, invading Drift’s space as he leaned forward, letting the weight of his energy field unfurl against Drift’s. “So if I were you, I’d give him space. He doesn’t want your apology right now, and it’s selfish to force it on him.”   
  
Defiance flashed in Drift’s optics. “But--”  
  
“But nothing,” Sunstreaker interrupted, and it gave him great pleasure to do so. “Your guilt is your problem.”   
  
He paused and cycled a ventilation. Anger would only make him irrational. That was Starscream’s job. His was to be the cold fury who solved the problem.   
  
“I don’t care why you came here,” Sunstreaker said in a quieter tone, lacing it with warning. “But leave Rodimus out of it. For both of your sakes. I think you’ve ruined his life enough, don’t you?”   
  
He straightened, out of Drift’s fieldspace and into his own. It left him standing over the table, looming more like, with Drift’s grip on his sword too tight to be casual.   
  
Drift gnawed on his lower lip before he ducked his head. “Understood.” His shoulder tires twitched.   
  
There wasn’t much certainty in his reply. Sunstreaker stared at Drift for a long minute. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The weight of his glare was enough to crumple metal, or so Starscream had once told him.   
  
Drift’s shoulders hunched inward. “I get it, I swear,” he said, and his engine gave a weak little rev. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. So I’ll stay away.”   
  
“You do that.” Sunstreaker half-turned to leave. “If you’re lucky, one day, he might be willing to listen. But I wouldn’t hold my vents.”  
  
“Would you?” Drift asked, and his voice was so soft, so aching, it echoed Rodimus’ question earlier, the despair in his optics.   
  
 _Would you think less of me if I had?_    
  
There was a reason Rodimus and Deadlock had been drawn to each other. Sunstreaker didn’t think it was entirely for the reasons Drift listed. He also thought Drift was lying to himself if he thought there was nothing between he and Rodimus but interfacing and fun.   
  
“No.”   
  
Drift flinched as if Rodimus had been the one giving him that final refusal.   
  
Sunstreaker took pity on him.   
  
“But then, I’ve been told I don’t have a spark so I’m hardly a fair example. Rodimus, I know, is kinder.” Sunstreaker tipped his head. “Enjoy your day.”   
  
He left, exhaustion seeping in the space around his spark. While not physically exhausting, today had already taken an emotional toll on him, and he still had the senator to service tonight.   
  
Or was it the other way around? Sometimes, when it came to thoroughly dominating his clients, Sunstreaker was never sure where the service ended and indulgence began. He would lie if asked, but truth be told, Sunstreaker always got a secret thrill over grinding the elite beneath his heels. And getting paid for it.   
  
In any case, Sunstreaker needed to rest before tonight, as Starscream had rightly suggested earlier.   
  
He would pass on what he’d found to Starscream as well, and leave it up to his Seeker to decide how much to tell Rodimus. Sunstreaker did believe Drift was sincere, but it was still up to Rodimus whether or not he wanted to forgive and forget.   
  
Sometimes, wounds weren’t that easy to heal.   
  
***


	3. Chapter 3

The number was a countdown, an ever declining balance toward his escape. Rodimus checked his account every week, especially after a particularly generous client, just to feel like he was accomplishing some kind of forward motion. A faster forward motion now that Starscream had helped hone his abilities.   
  
Starscream was never going to let him live that down.   
  
He kept a running balance at the back of his processor, but it never hurt to double-check his own accounting. Math had never been his strong suit. He hadn’t been programmed with it.   
  
He woke up after a late night with a demanding, but generous client, and rolled over and out of the berth. His roommates were already gone for the day, leaving Rodimus free to use their shared console without them peering over his shoulder. He sipped on coolant as he logged into his account, still shaking off the last vestiges of a deep, for once dreamless, recharge.  
  
The page loaded. Rodimus cycled his optics. He rebooted them.   
  
He swallowed a gulp of coolant.   
  
That wasn’t right.   
  
There was a significant decrease in his balance, one he couldn’t account for. It didn’t have a client name attached to it. It was labeled as an anonymous donor.   
  
Dread pooled in Rodimus’ tanks. What if… What if this was Turmoil’s way of making Rodimus owe him further? What if he was playing some kind of mind game? What if it was all a trick or a trap or…?   
  
Rodimus leapt from his stool, hurriedly logging out of his account. He didn’t have to be on the sales floor until later. Which was good, because he needed to solve this mystery now.   
  
Streamline didn’t manage his own accounts. He paid someone else to do it for him. Compute’s office was down the hall from Streamline’s. It was small and cramped, but then, so was Compute.   
  
He was just a shade too tall to be considered a minibot, and without an altmode, had no kibble to get in the way either. He crouched behind a desk that was much too tall, his feet dangling over the edge of his stool, and he hunched over his computer, peering at it like his optics weren’t up to the challenge.  
  
He had all the personality of a wet meshcloth, but his door was always open. Literally.  
  
Rodimus shifted from foot to foot, waiting to be noticed. Compute’s door was open, but his attention was bestowed upon you when he chose and no other moment. Interrupting him, especially in the middle of a complicated calculation was not a good idea.   
  
“Yes?” Compute asked without looking away from his monitor.   
  
“I think there’s an error. In my account,” Rodimus said.   
  
“Impossible. I don’t make errors.” Compute’s fingers continued to move, but he turned to look at Rodimus ever so slowly, staring up the bridge of his nose. “To which transaction are you referring?”   
  
“The most recent one. The anonymous donation. I don’t think--”  
  
“It is yours?” Compute interrupted without a change in his tone. His gaze shifted back to his monitor, keystrokes pausing, possibly as he pulled up Rodimus’ account. “Hm. Yes, this deposit is meant for you.”   
  
The knot in Rodimus’ intake tightened. “Um, I know it’s anonymous but--”  
  
“It was made by one of our new hires,” Compute said as the low drone of his typing resumed. “He has requested that the majority of his wages be deposited into your account rather than his. We have no rule against this, so long as he understands donations are not the same as purchases of time. He signed a waiver.”   
  
Rodimus’ spark squeezed. “Who?”   
  
“Drift.”   
  
Rodimus’ mouth dropped. He went still, thoughts racing, his spark stuttering. “I… what? I don’t understand. Why?”   
  
“That is not a question I can answer. You will have to ask him.” Compute sounded annoyed, or as much as Compute could sound annoyed. “Are there any further queries I can clarify?”   
  
“No. Um, thanks. That was it.”   
  
Rodimus backed out and left. He doubted Compute noticed. Numbers were really all the accountant cared about. Not that Rodimus’ world-view had just taken a severe beating. What the frag was Drift thinking? What was he doing? Was he trying to buy Rodimus’ forgiveness? Trying to force Rodimus to talk to him?   
  
Anger and confusion broiled like an overheated smelter pit. Rodimus staggered from Compute’s office, unsure what to do with this information. He wanted Starscream’s advice, but Starscream was offline. Probably cuddling with Sunstreaker. Rodimus couldn’t interrupt that.   
  
No, he didn’t need advice. He needed answers. He needed to check the posted schedule.   
  
Drift was offline. Drift wasn’t on shift. Drift was, more than likely, in his quarters in the basement, where all the other guards and bouncers bunked if they didn’t have off-site housing. Which most of them didn’t. Too expensive to live off-site. Streamline paid well, but not that well.   
  
Rodimus went downstairs and hoped most of the guards were on shift and not in a mood to leer at him. Or ask him if he came to offer a freebie. Some of the other escorts did. They liked courting favor from the guards in hopes of earning extra protection and the like. Or maybe they just liked fragging someone they didn’t have to impress if they didn’t want to.   
  
Luck was on his side. Only one guard was in the common room, and it was Spinner, one of Rodimus’ favorites. He was younger, and a halfway decent mech. Probably got this job because he figured it was the only thing he was good at. He didn’t ogle, and he didn’t try to sneak a grope.   
  
“Hey, Rodders, what you doing down here?” Spinner asked, looking up from the cleaning and reassembling of one of his blasters.   
  
“Looking for Drift. He around?”   
  
Spinner clicked a piece into place. “He’s in his room. Meditating or something.” He lifted a shoulder and tilted his head in the direction of one of the closed doors. “That one there. Don’t tell me you’re here to offer him a freebs.”   
  
Rodimus wrinkled his nose. “Absolutely not. You know I don’t do that.”   
  
“I know. That’s why I asked.” Spinner bent back over his blaster. “Go ahead and bother him. It’s all right. But you know, shout if you need me.”   
  
“Will do. Thanks, Spin.”   
  
Rodimus gathered his courage, his anger, his agitation, and he let all three carry him to Drift’s door. He knocked and waited for the door to open.   
  
He’d thought he was prepared for when it did, but his insides still squeezed into a tight knot when Drift opened the door and gave him a startled look. “Roddy? What are you doing here?”   
  
Anger spiked. “Don’t call me that.”  
  
Drift gnawed on his bottom lip. “Right. Sorry. I forgot.” He peered over Rodimus’ shoulder. “No guardians?”   
  
“They’re not my guardians.” Rodimus set his jaw. “I need to ask you a question. It’s up to you whether or not you answer it with an audience.”   
  
Something flickered across Drift’s face before he stepped back and gestured Rodimus inside. “Hopefully, I got an answer.” The door shut behind them. “Listen, Roddy. I’m glad you came. I’ve been wanting to--”  
  
Rodimus shook his head. “Don’t care. I didn’t come here to listen to your apology. I just want to know what the frag you think you’re doing giving me your creds.”   
  
Drift moved away from the door, as though making it clear Rodimus could leave anytime he wanted. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”   
  
“Well, I did,” Rodimus snapped. He hovered near the door, unwilling to step any further into a room that looked warm and cozy and private, even if it was small. How unfair. “And I don’t fragging need your creds so stop it!”   
  
“Yes, you do.” Drift’s gaze was steady.   
  
Rodimus scowled and folded his arms over his chest. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”   
  
Drift cycled a ventilation and swept a hand over his head. “You won’t let me apologize, and I can’t change the past. I can’t even make up for what you’ve been through. It’s impossible.” He dropped his hands, shoulders sagging. “So the least I can do is help you get a better future. It’s my debt, too.”   
  
“It’s not going to make me forgive you,” Rodimus spat. He backed toward the door, suddenly feeling trapped by the small space, and the earnestness of Drift’s expression.   
  
Drift shook his head. “I’m not asking for that. I don’t even care. If I did, I wouldn’t have made the transfer anonymous. I just want you to be happy.”   
  
“Happy!?” Rodimus demanded, and hated himself for how it came out too high-pitched to be irate. He wished he had something to throw. “Frag you! I never asked for your pity, and I definitely don’t want it!”   
  
He was done here. Maybe he couldn’t stop Drift from giving away his creds, but he didn’t have to be fragging grateful for it.   
  
“Roddy, please. Wait,” Drift said. His engine revved. His field flared, snatching at Rodimus’, thick and heavy with urgency.   
  
“I don’t need you,” Rodimus hissed over his shoulder, without so much as looking at Drift, who he couldn’t look at without feeling that squeeze in his spark, that longing of what could’ve been.   
  
“It’s not that.” Drift’s hand closed around his wrist, gentle enough Rodimus could pull free, but it was the desperation in his tone that made Rodimus hesitate before he could storm out the door. “Listen, something is going to happen soon, and I’m going to do my best to keep you out of it, but it’s not all in my hands, all right?”   
  
Rodimus pulled himself free, but not to leave. Instead, he faced Drift. “What are you talking about?”   
  
Drift shook his head. “I can’t tell you the details. Just… keep your head down and I swear, I’ll do my best to make sure they don’t get you, too.”   
  
It sounded like another trick. Then again, that’s what all Drift’s words sounded like anymore.   
  
Rodimus rolled his optics. Lies and half-truths, Drift was full of them. He’d say anything to come out less the villain. Aft.   
  
“Just leave me alone,” he hissed, and yanked the door open, letting himself out.   
  
He braced himself for Drift to give chase, but he didn’t. All the better. Rodimus wasn’t interested in talking anymore.   
  
  


~

  
  
Five minutes past the time Rodimus was supposed to meet him for their pre-sales floor polish, Starscream shrugged and gathered his supplies.   
  
Ten minutes beyond that, and Starscream got annoyed. It wouldn’t be the first time Rodimus was late, and he usually showed up full of grins, vents ragged, still rubbing recharge from his optics or rust stick dust from the corner of his mouth. He was such a child sometimes.   
  
Perhaps it was time for another lesson in punctuality.   
  
With fifteen minutes until they were supposed to be on the floor, annoyance turned to worry. By now, Rodimus would have at least pinged him to let him know he couldn’t make it and why, or for Starscream to go ahead without him, or to explain why he hadn’t shown up.   
  
Starscream’s armor was already perfection. Sunstreaker had seen to that before he’d left for his prepurchased session. His third with Sideswipe, the greedy little merchant. Two weeks and on his third session? Someone was spending a heck of a lot of creds to be ground into the dirt.   
  
Starscream would be offended, if he wasn’t already aware of how amazing Sunstreaker was as a Dom.   
  
Rodimus didn’t answer Starscream’s ping. He was listed as offline.   
  
Worry prompted Starscream to ping Spinner, one of the guards most of the escorts universally liked, because he was just a nice kid.   
  
Rodimus wasn’t already on the sales floor. He had, however, been down to the guard barracks earlier today, and he’d had some kind of verbal altercation with Drift. Spinner didn’t know why. He wasn’t the sort to pry, but Rodimus had been pale and his armor clamped when he rushed out.   
  
Starscream sighed. He should have known.   
  
He gathered up a travel kit – one Sunstreaker had stocked for him – and stuffed it into his thigh compartment. He headed straight for Rodimus’ dorm. If Rodimus wasn’t hiding in Starscream’s room, he was probably there.   
  
When he arrived, Rodimus’ roommates were leaving.   
  
“He’s inside,” Lockstock said with a thumb pointed over his spiky shoulder. Lockstock looked like someone who should be armed and standing out front, not servicing clients, but it took all kinds to satisfy.   
  
Starscream’s association with Rodimus had not gone unnoticed by the Blue Sun employees. Even Streamline had commented on it last week, but only with approval. Rodimus earned more creds now, and he was attracting new clientele. More creds made Streamline happier.   
  
He’d mentioned starting a mentoring program, since teaching Rodimus had proven to be so effective, but Starscream refused. Rodimus had been a one-time deal.   
  
Carbonate held the door open, long enough for Starscream to slip inside, where it was dim and smelled faintly of exhaust. He wrinkled his nose. Thank Primus he shared a room with someone as conscientious as Sunstreaker.   
  
It was quite obvious that the roommates had each chosen a wall to make their own, with hastily erected barriers of metalmesh drawn over thin metal rods. Only one was closed and words had been hastily scribbled over the mesh.   
  
‘Hot Rod’  
  
Starscream swept the curtain inside and invited himself into the closet-sized space meant for Rodimus alone. It was just as dim here, but there was a lump on the berth with visible bright red and orange biolights.   
  
“Rodimus.” Irritation and relief both swept through Starscream. “You have to be on the floor in ten minutes. What are you doing?”   
  
“Is it that late already?” Rodimus replied, his voice oddly hollow. He lifted his face, however, and the blue of his optics were oddly subdued. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. I must have missed meeting you. Sorry.” He scrubbed his hand down his face.  
  
Starscream hacked into the lights and brought them up to thirty percent. Rodimus looked like the Pit. His expression was drawn, his armor dull, and there were tracks on his face as though he’d been weeping, as much as it was possible for them to weep.   
  
Anger vanished in the wake of concern. Starscream sat next to Rodimus, though he kept a careful eye on his chronometer, and his optics rounded as Rodimus threw himself over Starscream’s lap.   
  
“What happened?” Starscream stroked the back of Rodimus’ spoiler, long and heavy strokes, not meant to arouse but comfort. “Or since I know you spoke with Drift, I should better ask, what did he say?”   
  
Rodimus buried his face against Starscream’s thigh. “I found creds in my account this morning. When I asked Compute about them, he said they were from Drift. He’d donated them.”   
  
Starscream set his jaw. “Did he now?”   
  
“Yes.” Rodimus’ field flashed with a mixture of emotions, too fast to catch. “I told him I didn’t want his creds, but he says he owes them to me. I told him he couldn’t buy my forgiveness either, and he said it didn’t matter.”   
  
The anger returned, though now it was directed elsewhere. “Do you believe him?”   
  
Rodimus was silent. His armor shivered.   
  
Starscream stroked down his backstrut and gentled his tone. “I know you want to believe him. But I can’t think of this as anything but another manipulation.”   
  
“I’m sure it is,” Rodimus muttered, and he sounded disappointed. He gusted a ventilation and pushed himself back up. “Might as well take his creds though, if it means I can get out of here faster.”   
  
“And if he tries to force you to speak with him because of them, I will make him learn the error of his ways,” Starscream said as he tweaked Rodimus’ chin. “Now. Get up. We have less than ten minutes before you are to be on the floor, and you are nothing I would buy right now.”   
  
Rodimus scowled but then he looked down at himself. “Yeah, I guess you have in point.” He brushed faintly at a streak of old grease on his chestplate. “Good thing you’re here to make me pretty again.” He managed a smile.   
  
“Indeed. Your appearance reflects on me now,” Starscream said.   
  
He urged Rodimus up from the berth and set to making him shine in all the right places. Rodimus was not a hard sell. He was flashy and adorable, and he had an aft any rich customer would like to slap. Starscream wouldn’t mind laying palm to it himself, truth be told. Perhaps some day, if Rodimus was not so determined to set himself on the path to dom.   
  
“You can’t keep letting him get under your plating,” Starscream advised as he swept the polishing cloth over Rodimus’ spoiler, letting Rodimus attend to his own arms. They were running out of time. “You need to learn how to be stone, unshakable and unmovable. That’s the only way to survive.”   
  
Rodimus sighed. “I know.” His spoiler twitched under Starscream’s hands. “It’s just… when I see him, he reminds me of everything, why I’m here, what Turmoil did to me, the stuff I try my best to forget.”   
  
Starscream embraced Rodimus from behind. They had enough time for it. “I know,” he said gently, and gave the younger mech a squeeze. “But you were strong enough to make it this far, and you’re even stronger than that.”   
  
“At least someone believes it,” Rodimus said with a sigh. But he patted Starscream’s hand. “Thanks, Star. Guess we better get to the floor now. Before Streamline fries a circuit.”   
  
“Indeed.”   
  
They hit the floor precisely on time, though Starscream felt Streamline’s optics on them immediately. He shooed Rodimus onto the main floor, and Starscream himself kept to the periphery. Nightshade would probably be here tonight, and if he didn’t snag Rodimus, he might grab Starscream instead.   
  
Hopefully.   
  
Lore was here as well, and Starscream did not like that particular customer at all. He paid well, but there was something in the way Lore looked at you. It was as if he wanted to peel apart Starscream’s head plating and poke at his processor. Rumor had it he was one of Turmoil’s cronies, too.   
  
It was early yet. There were more escorts than patrons, though that would change soon enough. Sunstreaker, of course, was not here. Sideswipe had booked him for the majority of the afternoon and evening. Probably would have bought more of his time if Sunstreaker had not put his foot down.   
  
Starscream was not jealous.   
  
Much.   
  
Starscream made a few broad circles. Lore continued to eye him, though Atomizer was doing his best to capture Lore’s attention, plying him with his favorite engex and making himself enticing.   
  
There were a couple new faces here, patrons Starscream didn’t recognize. One in particular didn’t look like he had the creds to afford even their newest arrival, who went for cheap until he got more practiced. The new patron’s armor didn’t qualify as polished, it was dented, and he slouched where he sat in one of the chairs.   
  
He was massive, empty sheaths to indicate where he usually went armed, and he leered at the escorts like they were all cheap buymechs off the street. Normally, mechs of his kind wouldn’t even be allowed in the front door.   
  
Starscream sneered. He was probably one of Turmoil’s minions. Streamline let them in regardless of their appearance.   
  
On impulse, Starscream checked on Rodimus. At the moment, he was tagteaming one of their repeat customers with Fraction. Sweet of him, but even Starscream new the patron would be walking out with Fraction.   
  
Sometimes, customers just had their favorites.   
  
Drift was here as well. Starscream had noticed him immediately, and while he watched Rodimus, he didn’t try to approach. Wise. Starscream did not resist the urge to bare his denta at Drift as he passed in his circuits.   
  
Drift tilted his head in acknowledgment. Well, he wasn’t stupid at least.   
  
Two cycles later, and Starscream hadn’t caught anyone’s optic yet. Not that he was trying. He felt on edge for some reason, as if there was something in the air, and he knew it.  
  
Starscream had learned to trust his instincts. They’d served him very well so far.   
  
Tension shattered when he heard a ruckus from the other side of the room. Starscream’s attention whipped toward it, anger pooling in his tanks when he found Rodimus’ wrist caught in the grip of the new customer Starscream had pegged for being one of Turmoil’s.   
  
Rodimus was trying to yank himself free, every inch of his frame trembling with refusal, as he had every right to do, especially now that he commanded a higher price. No more could Turmoil’s cronies demand him for a freebie, Streamline had said as much.   
  
The new customer snarled and yanked Rodimus closer to him, the sound of crumpled metal horrifyingly loud over the commotion.   
  
Starscream was across the room before he knew what he was doing, aware that other guards were closing in, Drift included.   
  
Starscream headed Drift off with a snarl. “He doesn’t want your help,” Starscream hissed, and arrived at Rodimus’ side just as Spinner and Outrigger leapt into the fray as well.   
  
The two guards knocked the customer back, as Starscream snapped a blow against the mech’s wrist, forcing him to release his grip. Rodimus stumbled, and Starscream swept Rodimus up into his arms, away from the brute.   
  
Spinner and Outrigger wrestled the patron down, and Drift joined them, appearing with a pair of restraints. Starscream ushered Rodimus away as Rodimus trembled against him, cradling his hand. The customer shouted, his voice audible above the bedlam, none of it complimentary.   
  
All of it directed at Rodimus.   
  
“You owe me, whore!” he spat, oral lubricant spattering from his lips, his field a furious thing, lashing around in denied entitlement. “You owe all of us!”   
  
Rodimus’ shaking increased in earnest. He tucked his face against Starscream’s throat, as though trying to bury himself in Starscream’s arms.   
  
“Get him out of here!” Streamline roared, appearing through the main doors, more guards in his wake, his expression one of thunderous outrage.   
  
Four guards – Drift included – hauled the customer out, still spitting obscenities and threats, before the slam of the emergency exit door cut the sitting room into silence. A shocked, appalled silence.   
  
“I apologize,” Streamline said as the remaining patrons stared, wide-opticked and uneasy, and other escorts flittered around as though not quite sure what to do. “We take your safety very seriously here at Blue Sun. Please, enjoy some refreshments and when you decide upon your companion for the evening, be assured you will be compensated appropriately.”   
  
It was, of course, the right thing to say. Free treats and a discount for their chosen companion? Even if anyone was truly unsettled – which Starscream doubted – that was enough to soothe their concerns.   
  
It wouldn’t be the first time an unruly customer had been dragged out of Blue Sun. It wouldn’t be the last, no matter how hard Streamline screened their clientele.   
  
Custodial staff rushed in to clean up the overturned table, smashed dishes, and spilled energon. Conversation in the background returned to a low murmur. Someone started the music again.   
  
Starscream stroked a hand down Rodimus’ back as Streamline stomped toward them, all but spitting fire through his nostrils.   
  
“Want to tell me what the frag happened here?” he hissed. His biolights flashed in unappealing flickers of red and green. Honestly, Streamline had no taste.   
  
“Rowdy customer,” Starscream said in a flat tone. He thought it was rather obvious. “One who might have broken Rodimus’ wrist.”   
  
Streamline’s gaze fell to Rodimus, but nothing in it softened. “You’d better have a good explanation, Rodimus.”   
  
“Rowdy customer,” Rodimus echoed, his voice muffled as his face still sat half-pressed to Starscream’s chassis. “Wanted a freebie, got mad when I refused. You said I didn’t have to do those anymore.”   
  
“Indeed I did.” Streamline vented, his lips twisted with visible annoyance. He ran a hand over his head. “Fine. I’ll deal with it.” His gaze slanted to Starscream. “Are you booked?”  
  
“Not yet.” Starscream gripped Rodimus’ shoulders and turned him away from Streamline, pointing him at the exit doors. “I’m going to take him to the infirmary.”   
  
Streamline sighed and scrubbed harder at his forehead. “You do that.” He pointed at Starscream with a firm finger. “But I want you back on the floor afterward. I need you out here making sure I get sales. You hear me?”   
  
“Yes, sir.” Starscream’s tone was icy.   
  
Sometimes, he hated Streamline.   
  
He hurried Rodimus off the sales floor and to the infirmary. Wrench was more than capable of taking care of Rodimus. Starscream didn’t need a close examination to know Rodimus probably had a fractured ulnar strut or, at the very least, a sprain. Pain leaked into his field, and it was the only thing keeping the shame at bay.   
  
“He was one of Turmoil’s. Wasn’t he?” Starscream asked.   
  
Rodimus’ gaze stayed planted on the floor. “Yeah. Name’s Hexic. Didn’t like him before I got sent here, certainly don’t like him now.”   
  
Starscream worked his jaw. “Blue Sun doesn’t do freebies,” he said, careful to keep his tone not so much a question but a statement. Rodimus could answer if he wanted.   
  
A ripple ran over Rodimus’ armor. “Streamline owns my debt.” His shoulders hunched and he cradled his aching wrist. “But Turmoil had conditions. If I wasn’t bringing in creds, then I should at least be friendly to his crew.”   
  
Friendly.   
  
Starscream’s mouth curved with disgust.   
  
“I’ve got regulars now though,” Rodimus said with a small smile. He nudged Starscream with his uninjured arm. “Thanks to you. I’m climbing up the ranks in my earnings. So I don’t have to do freebies anymore. Hexic didn’t like that.”   
  
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Starscream murmured. He controlled himself so as not to squeeze Rodimus too tightly, as anger burned bright and fierce inside of him.   
  
He hoped he never met Turmoil in person.  
  
Starscream ushered Rodimus into the infirmary and straight to the tender mercies of their medic on staff. He was an old mech, so old he hadn’t bothered refreshing his nanites anymore, and he carried a rusty look about him.   
  
He called himself Wrench. Starscream suspected that wasn’t his original designation.   
  
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” Wrench emerged from the back, wiping his hands clean with a cloth, his amber optics assessing the situation in a glance. “Broken wrist. Fractured ulnar it looks like. Starscream, you want to tell me something?”   
  
“It wasn’t Sunstreaker,” Starscream said with a sigh. That had been a one-time mistake for Primus’ sake. “This was a customer. Hexic.”   
  
Wrench frowned. “I know the name. He’s sent others to me before, usually a bit more dented. I thought he was banned.” He pulled out a stool and patted the seat of it. “Come here, kid. Let me take a look at that.” He snagged a wheeled chair for himself and sat down with a squeak of hydraulics.   
  
“Someone didn’t get the memo,” Starscream muttered. He urged Rodimus toward the stool. “Go on. He’s not going to bite.”   
  
“Much.” Wrench winked and bared his denta, for all that they were blunted with age and not the least bit threatening. “Don’t worry. I know how to handle a delicate thing like you.”   
  
“I’m not delicate,” Rodimus huffed. He dropped down in the stool, thrusting his crumpled wrist in Wrench’s direction.   
  
Wrench, true to form, took his hand gently, a scope lens dropping down in front of his optic. “You are to me. You speedsters, all speed and flash, but not much in the ways of sturdiness.” Wrench carefully turned Rodimus’ hand this way and that. “Still pretty though.”   
  
“Thanks,” Rodimus said.   
  
Wrench had a way of giving a compliment that made it seem like he meant it, and not just as a means to burrow his way beneath your plating.   
  
Wrench vented softly. “Yeah. It’s definitely fractured. I’m going to have to weld this.” He looked up at Starscream. “You can leave him here with me, you know. He’s safe enough.”   
  
Starscream found a nearby wall and leaned against it. He could handle Streamline’s complaints and a dock in his pay. “I’m staying.”   
  
“Suit yourself.” Wrench tucked Rodimus’ wrist back into his lap and gave him a gentle pat. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll get you fixed up in no time. Won’t even hurt a bit.”   
  
Rodimus scowled. “I’m not a kid,” he said. “And I’ve felt worse pain.”   
  
Something flickered across Wrench’s face, an expression that Starscream had seen in the mirror all too often – outrage and anger and resignation. “Yeah. I know.” He stood up and started rifling through his cabinets, looking for whatever he’d need to fix Rodimus’ wrist.   
  
Starscream settled against the wall, arms folded over his cockpit. He would wait until Rodimus was repaired, then he’d return to the sales floor, and not a moment sooner. He trusted Wrench, but he didn’t want to leave Rodimus alone, not with the wild flare to his field, and the way his armor kept fluttering. Rodimus needed to know someone cared.   
  
Starscream intended to make sure he was certain of it.   
  


~

  
  
Sunstreaker received the notification ping as he was drying himself off after his session with Sideswipe. The merchant was currently conked out on the berth, face down and sprawled across it as though he owned it and didn’t merely rent it. Sideswipe’s guard stood outside the door, and would watch his master once Sunstreaker left. Sideswipe could afford to recharge here as long as he wished, with or without escort company.   
  
It must be nice.   
  
Sunstreaker scowled into the mirror, the reflection of his crimson client visible next to his right shoulder. He supposed he was being unfair. Sideswipe was a good customer. He tipped well. He did not push boundaries. He respected Sunstreaker’s space and time. He obeyed enthusiastically, and he submitted beautifully.   
  
Sunstreaker could not fault him for being rich. Sideswipe had been sparked into it, true, but continued prosperity had been his to earn.   
  
Ruminations on Sideswipe, however, would have to wait. The notification ping sent alarm ringing through Sunstreaker’s systems. He dried off as hastily as possible, spark pounding in his chassis.   
  
Starscream was in the infirmary. There was no explanation. Truthfully, Spinner was under no obligation to provide details. It had been a kindness for him to inform Sunstreaker there’d been an incident. It wasn’t as if he and Starscream were actually beholden to one another.   
  
Though Sunstreaker had made a point to change his sparked will. When he died – not if, but when, given the instability of his spark – Starscream was to have all of his earnings. Sunstreaker might be forever trapped, but some day, Starscream would find his freedom, even if Sunstreaker had to die to ensure it.   
  
Starscream was unaware of this. Sunstreaker intended to keep it that way.   
  
Sunstreaker paused before he opened the door. An odd hesitation curled through his lines, as if he couldn’t bear to leave. It was like his spark didn’t want to, giving an odd lurch when he looked back at Sideswipe.   
  
It wasn’t love or affection, it couldn’t be. Sunstreaker knew what that felt like every time he looked at Starscream. It was something else. Something he didn’t understand.   
  
Sunstreaker ignored it. He made himself open the door as his spark shivered.   
  
Starscream needed him. That was reason enough.   
  
Sunstreaker firmly closed the door behind him and nodding a greeting at Skids, Sideswipe’s usual guard. Sunstreaker had met no other, though he had little doubt Sideswipe employed more than a few for personal protection.   
  
“Boss sleeping?” Skids asked. He leaned against the opposite wall, positioned directly in front of the door.   
  
To the layman, his pose was lazy, nonchalant even. Sunstreaker was not fooled by it. Menace coiled beneath the layers of Skids’ bright blue armor and behind the easygoing grin.   
  
Sunstreaker nodded. “He set an alarm, I assume.”   
  
Skids grinned. “I’m sure he did.” He crossed his arms behind his head. “Just like I’m sure you worked him over good. Think the boss is smitten.”   
  
“They usually are.” Sunstreaker tipped his head.   
  
He left Skids to guard his master’s rest.   
  
Usually, Sunstreaker took this opportunity to return to his room for an in-depth polish, or he hit the sales floor to observe the others. Right now, the notification summoned him to the clinic. He tried not to run, so no one could read the slight panic in his field. Starscream was too willing to intercede for the other escorts, putting himself in harm’s way despite the fact they had hired soldiers to do that. The fool.   
  
Sunstreaker gritted his denta. He both loved Starscream for that determination, and hated him for it. Someday, one of the crazy patrons might decide fists weren’t enough. Maybe they’d slip a blade or a blaster past the screeners. And maybe Starscream wouldn’t be able to avoid a killing blow.   
  
He was not allowed to outlive Sunstreaker. They would have words.   
  
The lift deposited Sunstreaker on the appropriate floor, and he headed directly for the infirmary, barging inside. Wrench would understand. He and Sunstreaker spent far too much time together, second only to Starscream.  
  
Sunstreaker scanned the infirmary interior. Wrench and Rodimus both looked up at him, the former bent over Rodimus’ right arm and hand, scope lens glinting over his optic. Starscream was… Starscream was not immediately in sight.   
  
“I’m right here.” Starscream sighed.   
  
Sunstreaker turned and found his roommate leaning against the wall by the door, rubbing his face.   
  
“And I’m not injured,” Starscream added with two raised ridges. “I assume Spinner told you.”   
  
“He was short on the details.” Sunstreaker slid his hands to Starscream’s shoulders, looking him up and down. “You have to stop doing this. Blue Sun pays for guards for a reason.”   
  
“And sometimes they are too slow,” Starscream grumbled. He wriggled out from under Sunstreaker’s hands. “Besides, I’m not the one who was injured.”   
  
Sunstreaker struck down the rising hurt.   
  
“Yeah, what he said,” Rodimus piped up, like a fool who didn’t know when it was best to be silent. “Broken wrist and all.”   
  
“Fractured ulnar strut,” Wrench corrected as he bent back over Rodimus’ wrist. “You’ll live.”   
  
“Who?” Sunstreaker demanded.   
  
Starscream waved off his concern. “A patron. Don’t worry. It was handled.”   
  
Sunstreaker sighed and crossed his arms. Irritation bubbled inside of him, warring with the worry for control. He leaned against the wall, near where Starscream had been standing, his lips pressed together. He would not have this argument again. Or at least, not where others could hear. Besides, when it came down to it, he had no right to ask anything of Starscream. He had no right to anything.   
  
They were only roommates.   
  
“Aren’t you supposed to be with a client?” Starscream asked as he moved to the wall beside Sunstreaker.  
  
“The session is over,” Sunstreaker bit out. He focused on Wrench and Rodimus, the former who was teasing the latter and making him laugh. Wrench was so very good at soothing the injured and afraid. “I am not so unprofessional as to leave a client in the middle of a session, no matter the reason.”   
  
“I didn’t mean to imply you were.” Starscream rolled his optics, back and wings hitting the wall with a loud tap. “Turmoil’s cronies are getting more demanding by the way. They don’t like that Rodimus is actually succeeding where Turmoil expected him to fail.”   
  
Sunstreaker made a noncommittal noise. Starscream would move the earth if it meant he could protect Rodimus, apparently.   
  
“That’s for Streamline to handle. Not us,” Sunstreaker said.   
  
Starscream snorted. “Streamline doesn’t care. He puts his loyalties where the creds are. If Turmoil fusses loud enough, Rodimus will have no choice but to bow to whatever whims he decides.”   
  
“And?” Sunstreaker prompted.   
  
“And what?” Starscream’s optics narrowed.   
  
“And if that happens, what are you going to do? Put yourself in front of him again? Hand over your own savings to make sure he stays safe?” Sunstreaker worked his intake over a lump, he felt like he were choking. “What do you think you can do to protect him? More than that, why try so hard? What makes him so special?”   
  
Starscream’s jaw firmed. His glare hardened to coal-fire pinpricks. “They always told me you were sparkless,” he gritted out, his voice just low enough for Sunstreaker to hear and no further. “I didn’t believe it until now. Have you ever cared for anyone but yourself?”   
  
It felt like a punch to the abdomen. Why, why, why was Rodimus so important? Sunstreaker didn’t understand it. Not one bit.   
  
“Star--”  
  
Starscream held up hand, cutting him off, the other rising to his comm unit. He stared at Sunstreaker as he answered the ping.   
  
“Yes, Streamline. I remember. I heard you. I’m on my way now. I understand.” He lowered his hand and cycled a ventilation. “I have to go to the sales floor before Streamline pops a clutch. Can you make sure Rodimus gets back to his dorm or is that too much to ask?”   
  
“He can stay here. I’ll look after him,” Wrench offered up, the eavesdropping aft he was.   
  
“I don’t need looking after,” Rodimus grumbled.   
  
Sunstreaker gnawed on the inside of his cheek, feeling the sting of Starscream’s words like a slap to the face. “I’ll make sure he gets to a berth.”   
  
Starscream gave him a long, searching look before he nodded and turned his attention back to Rodimus. “Get some rest, rookie. I’ll come check on you later.”   
  
“You don’t have to nanny me, Starscream,” Rodimus muttered, but there was heat in his face. His spoiler fluttered with delight.  
  
Damn, but Starscream spoiled him. Even offered Rodimus one of those soft, fond smiles he didn’t give to anyone else. Did Rodimus have any idea how hard Sunstreaker had to work to earn even a fraction of that softness?   
  
Starscream left. Sunstreaker seethed.   
  
His thoughts collided one against the other, until he felt dizzy from them. He’d always known so many truths, but it was hard when he kept clinging to small hopes. Pointless hopes really.   
  
Starscream would never truly be his.   
  
“Alright, kid. You’re all fixed up.” Wrench rose to his feet and easily set Rodimus upon his own. “Try not to move that wrist for a day or so, and don’t lift anything heavy for a week. No handcuffs, ropes, or other restraints either.”   
  
“Aw, take all the fun out of it, why don’t you,” Rodimus drawled with a playful wink and twitch of his spoiler. “Does that mean I can’t put them on other people either?”   
  
Wrench rolled his optics and gave Rodimus a push in Sunstreaker’s direction. “I gave him a shot of analgesic so he might be a little loopy. Other than that, he’s all yours.”   
  
“Relatively speaking,” Sunstreaker corrected with a sigh. He caught Rodimus as the younger mech stumbled toward him, optics a little glazed and carefully cradling his injured wrist. “Come on then. You need rest.”   
  
Rodimus wriggled up under Sunstreaker’s arm, pressing close, his field warm and cuddly. “Ooo. Are you going to take me to berth?” he purred. “Is it my turn now?”   
  
Primus help him.   
  
Wrench burst into loud laughter. “Oh, you have fun with that.”   
  
Sunstreaker tossed him a Look before he tucked an arm over Rodimus’ shoulder and half-pulled, half-guided him out of the clinic. “You’re going to a berth, but not mine.”   
  
He would put Rodimus in Starscream’s berth. He suspected that was where Starscream wanted him anyway, and not left alone in his bunk.   
  
“You’re no fun.” Rodimus nuzzled the side of Sunstreaker’s chestplate, surely leaving smears behind. “No wonder Star’s mad at you.”   
  
Sunstreaker stiffened. “That’s none of your business.”   
  
“You two make it my business.” Rodimus sniffed and stumbled a bit, forcing Sunstreaker to rebalance them. “You drive me crazy, and I always end up in the middle.”   
  
Sunstreaker snorted. “I think you have that backward. You’re the one who’s always bringing the trouble.”   
  
Rodimus listed against his side as Sunstreaker tugged him into the lift and selected his and Starscream’s floor. “Not like this.” He squared his jaw and looked up at Sunstreaker, or at least attempted to do so. His optics didn’t seem to focus. “You should just tell him already.”   
  
The lift deposited them on the proper floor. He hauled Rodimus out, going through an array of choices before settling on the only logical course of action.   
  
Denial.   
  
“Being vague doesn’t suit you.” He unlocked the door and half-dragged, half-carried Rodimus inside.   
  
If Rodimus noticed he hadn’t actually been taken back to his dorm, he didn’t show it. He dug in his heels, looking up at Sunstreaker with petulance written across his face.   
  
“Being stupid doesn’t suit you,” he retorted and stuck his glossa out at Sunstreaker. “You’re pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about because you don’t want to face it. Neither of you do. And it’s the most frustrating thing in the universe right now, I swear.” He wobbled as though his feet had ceased functioning.   
  
Sunstreaker growled and scooped Rodimus over his shoulder. Rodimus made a strangled noise and scrabbled for a handhold, not that one was needed. Sunstreaker took less than a half-dozen strides before he tumbled Rodimus onto Starscream’s berth, the flame-colored rookie bouncing amid a pile of pillows.   
  
“You exaggerate,” Sunstreaker said.  
  
Rodimus wriggled, burrowing into the pillows with his injured arm outflung, laying across one of the larger pillows.   
  
“You wish I did.” Rodimus finally settled, optics drifting shut. “Starscream’s wrong, by the way. You’re not sparkless. You’re a coward.”   
  
Sunstreaker pressed his lips together. He swallowed his anger. Rodimus was only speaking truth, even though he had no right to say it.   
  
“Do you need anything?” Sunstreaker asked.   
  
Rodimus snorted. “Don’t pretend to be kind. It doesn’t suit you.” He dragged a pillow under his head with his uninjured hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell Starscream you were a good nanny.”   
  
Sunstreaker gnashed his denta. He left Rodimus to the comfort of Starscream’s berth. No doubt Starscream would join him on it later, leaving Sunstreaker to chilly solitude.   
  
He couldn’t ask for anything different. He couldn’t demand any of Starscream’s time or attention. He was owed nothing.   
  
“Kindness is a trap, you know,” Rodimus said, even though it was clear Sunstreaker considered their conversation over. “Kindness and charity. It’s all a way to ask for something and pretend you’re humble about it.”   
  
Sunstreaker drew his orbital ridges down. “What do you mean?”   
  
Blue optics were firmly shuttered. Rodimus twitched, burying himself further in the pillows.   
  
“You. Drift. You’re so much alike.” Rodimus’ glossa swept over his lips. “You can’t say what you mean. And he uses creds to apologize because he knows I won’t accept it otherwise.”   
  
Sunstreaker concentrated on the mess scattered across the floor. Dirty cloths and empty cans of wax and all matter of detritus Starscream tended to leave laying about. Somehow, it seemed more important than Rodimus’ truth.   
  
“Is that such a bad thing?” he wondered aloud, not sure he wanted an answer.   
  
Rodimus’ engine revved. “In our world?” His voice grew softer, as though the medicine had finally taken hold and was dragging him under. “Kindness is a lie.”   
  
Sunstreaker frowned. But Rodimus had already drifted off, his energy field evened out to the beat of his ventilations.   
  
 _Kindness is a lie._    
  
Perhaps that was what angered Starscream most of all.   
  
Sunstreaker returned to his cleaning, his thoughts as disordered as before, without an answer to put them to rights.   
  


***


	4. Chapter 4

Hexic was banned, if Streamline was to be believed. Rodimus didn’t put much stock in it. Besides, Hexic was gone but there were others. There would always be others. Turmoil had so much influence that it was a moot point.   
  
Rodimus’ wrist healed. Wrench did good work. He always did.   
  
Blue Sun returned to normal. Or normal-ish.   
  
There was a tension between Sunstreaker and Starscream now. One both of them ignored and pretended wasn’t there, but Rodimus could feel it. Other escorts could feel it. The tension was in the air, the atmosphere, it was infectious. But if you asked either of them, they’d say the same thing: nothing was wrong.   
  
“They’re never going to figure it out, kid,” Wrench said as he examined Rodimus’ wrist, checking the welds for issues or microfissures. “Not unless something happens to make them confront their feelings.”   
  
“What kind of something?” Rodimus asked.   
  
“Something neither of them can ignore,” Wrench grunted. He sighed, looking sad and old, as he sometimes did. “And something tells me that’s coming sooner rather than later.”   
  
“I hope so,” Rodimus said.   
  
“Me too, kid.” Wrench patted him on the wrist. “You’re all set. Literally. Do me a favor and don’t come to see me again soon. Unless you’re not injured and just want to spend some time with a cranky rust-aft.”   
  
Rodimus laughed. “You’re not cranky.”   
  
“Notice you didn’t deny the rust.”   
  
“Well, I’m not  _that_  generous.”   
  
Rodimus grinned as Wrench gave him a playful push toward the door, and out he went. He was ready to get back to work, so rather than return to his dorm room, he altered course and headed for Streamline’s office.   
  
Wrench would probably send him a message to let him know Rodimus was ready for duty, but Rodimus wanted to start as soon as possible. The longer he was out on med-leave, the less creds he made, and the longer he’d be stuck at Blue Sun. It wasn’t the worst place to work, honestly, but Rodimus wanted more for himself than this.   
  
Streamline’s door was open, but the manager wasn’t inside. Rodimus frowned, about to ping Streamline for his location, when he heard a commotion down the hall, coming from Compute’s office. He picked up Streamline’s voice amid Compute’s monotone. It didn’t sound like an argument, but something else.   
  
Curious, Rodimus crept toward the doorway, loitering just outside of it. He shamelessly eavesdropped, wondering what kind of gossip he could pick up on this time.   
  
“I’ve always kept those accounts separate,” Compute said, his fingers going clickity-clack over his keyboard. “They are ready to transfer and close at a moment’s notice.”   
  
“Then do it. I don’t need any more attention than I already have,” Streamline snapped. “What about transfer tracking?”   
  
“All accounts are owned by a subsidiary company untraceable to you.”   
  
“You’re sure?”   
  
“I am always certain.”   
  
It was easy to tell their voices apart, Streamline’s higher in pitch and near-hysterics, Compute a steady, stern monotone that held no inflection whatsoever. Rodimus had no clue what they were talking about. Untraceable creds? Tracking? Accounts? Was Streamline planning on going somewhere?   
  
“That fragger is not going to drag me down with him,” Streamline snarled, and Rodimus heard the distinct sound of a datapad hitting the ground, the screen cracking, and then the crunch of a foot stomping down on top of it. “I told him to be careful. I told him to stop playing those games. But did he listen? Of course not.”   
  
“Of course not,” Compute echoed. “Transfer complete.”   
  
“Good. Erase all evidence the account ever existed in the first place. I may have to do this one last job, but I’ll damned if I keep records of why. As far as anyone else is concerned, he’s just another customer.”   
  
“Algorithm running. Should be deleted within the hour.”   
  
“I knew there was a reason I paid you so much.” Streamline laughed, but it was a dark laugh. “Alright. I’ve got to get back on the sales floor before anyone gets suspicious. You can handle things here?”   
  
Frag.   
  
Rodimus nearly tripped over his own feet in an effort to scramble away from the door, missing whatever Compute’s reply had been. He raced down the hallway and around the corner, spark pounding in his chassis. He shuttered his optics, cycled a ventilation, and planted a smile on his face. He counted to three, and then he started forward again, a whistle on his lips. He rounded the corner and nearly collided with Streamline.   
  
“Boss!” Rodimus greeted cheerfully. “Wrench cleared me. See?” He waved his newly repaired hand in the air. “Can you please put me back on the sales floor?”   
  
Streamline pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your medical leave extends through the rest of the evening shift, Rodimus.” His field was a chaotic, if not muted, swirl of agitation. His face was pinched with agitation, and if he meant to run, Rodimus couldn’t tell.   
  
“But I’m okay now.” Rodimus waved his hand again, flopping his wrist to make a point. “Come on, boss. You know I need the creds.”   
  
“Fine.” Streamline flicked his fingers. “Go to the sales floor. But you’re only to take conventional clients. Nothing hard-edged. If you get injured again, you’ll be worse off than before, and I’m going to tack on an extra percentage to your interest. Understand?”   
  
Rodimus tucked his hands behind his back, rising and falling on his heels. “Clear as Praxian crystal, boss.”   
  
“Go on then. Get cleaned up.”   
  
Rodimus saluted and made himself scarce. Work at Blue Sun long enough and you became an excellent actor. Good enough to even fool Streamline it seemed.   
  
Rodimus headed back toward his dorm. He was glad to get back to work, and he would need a wash up and wipe down before he did so. But what he’d overheard lingered in his head. What did it mean? Who was Streamline talking about? Who was going down? What last job?   
  
Rodimus knew Streamline had many business contacts, most of which were black market dealers or ran illegal businesses. Streamline seemed to prefer the shadier deals. They earned the most money.   
  
Blue Sun was an excellent front for all kinds of trade: stolen artifacts, drugs, information. Streamline peddled it all. He was an excellent middleman.  
  
So which of his other halves finally got outed by the Enforcers?   
  
Rodimus might never know. It didn’t matter. Streamline wasn’t going to get caught with his business contacts, and he still owned Rodimus’ debt. So long as those two constants remained, well, constant, Rodimus was stuck here.   
  
For better or for worse.   
  


~

  
  
Tension simmered in the atmosphere of Blue Sun like one of Wheeljack’s experiments, vents held for the moment it would explode. Ever since the Hexic incident, it felt like everyone was snappish, short of temper.   
  
Rodimus jumped at shadows, Sunstreaker was unapproachable, and Starscream lingered in a constant state of agitation. Something was coming, Starscream was sure of it. His instincts had served him well a week ago, when Rodimus got injured. He’d bet a week’s earnings his instincts were right today as well.   
  
The foreboding intensified when Starscream hit the sales floor and found a flurry of activity. Custodial staff were in a frenzy of cleaning and polishing. Preppers rushed to fill cisterns and pile plates high with goodies. Other escorts primped and preened in front of mirrors and each other, chattering excitedly.   
  
Streamline oversaw it all, his lips in a firm line, his orbital ridge drawn into a glower. One would think they were about to go to war, rather than opening for the day. It made Starscream very uneasy.   
  
“What’s going on?”   
  
Beside him, Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. “Why would I know?” He moved past Starscream, focused on the dais where he usually perched. He had a session scheduled with Sideswipe much later, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be on the sales floor now, trying to encourage more purchases.   
  
Starscream cycled a ventilation before he snapped at his roommate, who had been colder than usual as of late. “Do you think it has something to do with what Rodimus overheard?”   
  
“It’s none of my business, whatever it is,” Sunstreaker said. He paused and looked over his shoulder, something flickering over his face before a mask of indifference fell over it again. “And none of yours either. We’re here to work. That’s all that matters.”   
  
Hurt throbbed through Starscream’s spark. He chased it away with irritation. “Thanks for the reminder. I needed that,” he snapped and spun on a heelstrut.   
  
“Star--”  
  
He ignored Sunstreaker. Easy enough, as Sunstreaker had been a frigid roommate for the past week. Starscream instead scanned the sales floor.   
  
Everyone was in place. Even Rodimus had arrived early for once, standing over to the side with his roommates, a tight smile on his face, his armor taut to his frame.   
  
Starscream drifted toward him, scanning the floor again. Streamline still stood, lord of it all. There was a guard at every position, Drift and Spinner stationed together near the double doors leading back toward the receiving rooms.   
  
The first of the days customers trickled in, greeted with laughs and smiles by the escorts nearest the front doors. They were ushered to seats, plied with treats and drink. A couple of them were familiar faces, though Starscream hadn’t serviced them before.   
  
“Everything all right?”   
  
Starscream blinked out of his fugue at the light touch to his arm. Rodimus looked up at him with a frown, his field wafting concern.   
  
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Starscream offered him a thin smile and hooked his elbow with Rodimus’. “Come on, rookie. Let’s go greet the customers.”   
  
“Uh, isn’t that usually a job for the actual rookies?” Rodimus asked, but he went along anyway, his field reaching out to Starscream’s with a mixture of affection and comfort.   
  
“Never hurts to provide some extra incentive,” Starscream near-sang, and winked playfully.   
  
His comm pinged, the ident code belonging to Streamline. Starscream went rigid, glancing over his shoulder. Streamline’s visor burned his direction. Fantastic. What had he done to incur the boss’ wrath this time?   
  
Starscream patted Rodimus on the arm. “Entice a rich one,” he purred. “I’ll be right back.”   
  
Rodimus’ frown deepened. “You sure everything’s okay?”  
  
“I’m sure.” Starscream hoped he sounded more reassuring as he felt.   
  
He urged Rodimus toward the door, and turned back to the main room. He slipped through the gathered escorts and servers to make his way to Streamline lurking at the back, per the usual. Streamline was visibly tense, his armor drawn to taut, that he appeared a statute, one that might shatter if touched.   
  
“Yes, boss?”   
  
Streamline pointed to the floor directly next to him. Starscream obediently moved closer, his wings twitching and his instincts clawing for attention.   
  
“We have an important client today, Starscream.” Streamline stared hard at the front door, focusing hard on each new arrival. “And I know you’ve formed an attachment to Rodimus.”   
  
Starscream’s orbital ridges flattened. “What does one have to do with the—oh.”   
  
“Yes. And you are not to interfere. Do you understand me?”   
  
Starscream’s hands drew into loose fists. “Why should there be any need to interfere?” he asked with false cheer and a smile. “Blue Sun protects its staff, does it not? Certainly you wouldn’t allow for any harm to come to one of your escorts.”   
  
Streamline’s optics narrowed. “Do not take me for a fool, Starscream. You may be one of my most valuable escorts, but you are not irreplaceable.”   
  
He shifted, slowly enough that his hydraulics creaked, and he glare. “Mind your own business. Make sure the whelp behaves. And we’ll all end the day much richer than we began it. Understand?”   
  
Starscream grinned, and if he happened to bear his sharpened denta, so be it. “Yes, boss. Clear as Praxian crystal.” He swept into an exaggerated bow, wings canted across his back in fake deference. “Shall I get back to work now?”   
  
Streamline flicked fingers at him. “Go.”   
  
Starscream didn’t have to be told twice.   
  
He returned to the sales floor, further convinced that there was reason to be wary. If Turmoil was going to be here, that could only mean trouble. Turmoil had not set foot through the doors of Blue Sun since abandoning Rodimus here. Or if he had, Starscream was not aware of it.   
  
More customers had trickled in, which wasn’t unusual. This day of the week, they were often packed early, so much so Streamline had considered extending their hours of availability. Turmoil had not yet appeared. Starscream’s anxiousness notched up another level, more for Rodimus’ sake than his own.   
  
There was a new arrival in one of the booths, however. Starscream recognized the black and white paint and symbols on the mech’s sensory panels as belonging to the Enforcers, and a high-ranking one at that.   
  
What on Cybertron was a high-ranking Enforcer doing here? In the middle of the day? Not even making the least attempt to be furtive? He currently sat between Atomizer and Flare, his expression one of disinterest despite being surrounded by such pretty specimens.   
  
Starscream frowned.   
  
It wasn’t the rarity of an Enforcer. No, they were common enough in Blue Sun. They were more likely to indulge in the newer and therefore cheaper patrons. But it wasn’t illegal to purchase the services offered by Blue Sun. Nor was it something an Enforcer would face censure for.   
  
Someone as high of rank as this mech, however? That was the unusual part. Starscream could not recall a single instance of a high-ranking Enforcer sitting casually in the main service hall. They, as a rule, seemed to prefer the private rooms, booking their companion for the evening prior to their arrival so as to spend as little time being recognized as possible.   
  
Cool blue optics caught Starscream looking. They were as cold as liquid nitrogen, and they had all the sharpness of a vibroblade.   
  
Starscream shivered and looked away. He did not like that mech.   
  
He sought more comforting ground and caught a familiar face in the thickening crowd. Nightshade was a bit earlier than usual, but that wasn’t suspicious. It had been some time since Starscream had least seen one of his favorite customers. His spark rippled with delight. Starscream checked Rodimus’ position – still greeting at the door – and made his way to Nightshade’s side.   
  
Nightshade hadn’t selected a booth for once. Instead, he’d picked a stool at the bar, and he lounged comfortably atop it, sipping on one of his favorite concoctions – a weak energon spritzer.   
  
“My favorite wings,” Nightshade purred and gestured to the empty stool beside him. “Do you have time for me today?”   
  
“I always have time for you.” Starscream leaned in, giving Nightshade a chaste peck on the cheek. It was the only physical contact Nightshade welcomed without invitation and without flinching. “By which I mean, I’m not spoken for already, so whenever you want a little privacy, let me know.”   
  
Nightshade chuckled and slid an arm around Starscream’s waist. “You do know how much I enjoy observing first.”   
  
“I do.” Starscream leaned in close, though he struggled to hold on to his usual flirtatious banter. “Perhaps later you might want to observe me with another? I know Rodimus is free as well.”   
  
“Mm. He is a delight.” Nightshade sipped at his drink, his optics sharply assessing. “Is everything alright, Starscream?”   
  
“Now that you’re here, of course it is,” Starscream replied with a laugh. He teased Nightshade with his field, though his attention wandered to the sales floor. “Wouldn’t you rather a booth? They are far more comfortable.”   
  
“I would. I was simply waiting for you to escort me.” Nightshade slid down from the stool, offering Starscream his elbow. “They do seem to be filling up fast.”   
  
Starscream slipped his arm through Nightshade’s. “A lot of new faces tonight, I’ve noticed.” He tried to hold on to his cheer. “If I’d known you were going to be here so early, I’d have reserved you a booth.”   
  
“Mm. I did notice the new high spenders.” Nightshade swept up his drink from the bar with the other hand. “Prowl even took my favorite booth.”   
  
Prowl? Was that the Enforcers name? How did Nightshade know of him?  
  
Starscream tucked himself against Nightshade’s side, his field stroking apologetically over his patron’s. “You know this Prowl?”   
  
“I know of him.” Nightshade’s jaw visibly clenched. “Even in circles such as mine, there are certain designations to remember. His is one of them.”   
  
They slipped into the lounge area, choosing one of the empty two-cushioned lounges. Nightshade sat first, drawing Starscream down next to him.   
  
“He’s an Enforcer,” Nightshade continued as he deftly grabbed a engex cooler from a passing server and handed the delicate goblet to Starscream. “With an interest in, shall we say, unique artifacts.”   
  
Starscream glanced in ‘Prowl’s’ direction, but Prowl was taking no more notice of him. Instead, the Enforcer’s attention was on Atomizer, currently whispering into his audial.   
  
“So he’s dirty,” Starscream said, no louder than a murmur. He hadn’t meant to voice the observation aloud, but he couldn’t hide his disgust either.   
  
There were few things he despised more than a crooked lawmech, and there were plenty of such to found in the city.   
  
“Perhaps.” Nightshade rubbed a thumb over the curve of Starscream’s jaw. “But that’s nothing you should worry about. No doubt he is here for the same reason anyone else visits Blue Sun.”   
  
Starscream made a noncommittal noise. He sipped at his engex cooler – it would no more impair him than the weak spritzer – and settled in closer to Nightshade. He would be here the rest of the evening, he suspected.   
  
So he pinged Sunstreaker and hoped his roommate was in a helpful mood.   
  
‘Sunny, can you do me a favor?’  
  
‘Oh, are you talking to me now?’  
  
‘I’m serious. Can you watch after Rodimus? Turmoil’s supposed to be here later.’   
  
From across the room, he saw Sunstreaker stiffen and his optics narrow. ‘Fine.’   
  
He rose from his lounge, languid, gleaming grace. Starscream’s spark tightened with want at the sight of them. Their little cold war had meant frigid berths for the both of them, and Starscream missed Sunstreaker something fierce.   
  
‘Thank you.’   
  
There was no reply. He didn’t expect one.   
  
At least Sunstreaker had agreed.   
  
Starscream returned his attention to Nightshade, trying to bury his tension down deep so it didn’t interfere with his client’s time. But if he kept one sensor trained on Rodimus, no one could hardly blame him.   
  


~

  
  
Sunstreaker had never set out intending to care about Starscream’s little pet project. But somehow, Rodimus had not only squirmed his way into their lives, he’d wormed his way under Sunstreaker’s armor, and between him and Starscream. Rodimus had become a nuisance, and an issue, and someone Sunstreaker thought he should protect.   
  
Starscream’s request jolted Sunstreaker off his lounge before he thought twice about it. He, like Starscream, had been steadily cultivating a loathing for Turmoil.  
  
To have that piece of garbage come here, to a place of relative safety, it was intolerable.   
  
Sunstreaker couldn’t take a client right now. At least, not one who’d want him for his unique skills. Not with Sideswipe scheduled to arrive in an hour. Skids had already been by to drop off a small box Sideswipe wished to use during their session. But Sunstreaker’s presence on the sales floor would facilitate more transactions.   
  
Starscream had to entertain Nightshade. Sunstreaker would see to Rodimus.   
  
He moved toward the front door, trying to make his pace unhurried, as though he drifted through the growing crowd not because he had a purpose, but because he was a king mingling with his throng. They were busy already, an hour after opening, and all but one of the lounges were taken up with the richer of their patrons.   
  
The empty one, perched between an Enforcer Sunstreaker did not recognize and Nightshade and Starscream, had a Reserved placard placed upon the seat. Sunstreaker had little doubt it was meant for Turmoil. Prime seating, of course. Streamline had to keep his business contacts happy.   
  
Ugh.  
  
Sunstreaker paused by one of the emergency exits, guarded by a single mech as there was no handle to enter from the outside. It only required a guard because there was the occasional patron who tried to skip out on his bill. Or snatch an escort and run.   
  
“All’s well, sir,” Scorch said. He dipped his head out of politeness, the sort only the new guards bothered with. He’d only been here a week. He’d learn it wasn’t necessary.   
  
Streamline was hiring an unusual amount of help lately. But then, they’d had a few mechs disappear, never to arrive for their shifts so perhaps he was only replacing lost employees. Times were hard. Sometimes, mechs lost themselves to the gutter.   
  
Sunstreaker offered a thin smile. “I’m not your superior in any fashion. You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ though I appreciate the respect.”   
  
“Oh. But you are Sunstreaker, right? The top, um, dom here?” Scorch’s crimson face darkened in hue. He shifted his weight, hand tightening around the shaft of his energon lance.   
  
“I am Sunstreaker. And I am the highest paid escort here in Blue Sun,” Sunstreaker confirmed. He liked the kid, awkward though he was. “So nothing out of the ordinary then?”   
  
Scorch shook his head. “Not unless you count the stray cybercat I saw rooting around in the bins. Its been loitering for a week now, from what I hear though. Guess it’s hoping for a free meal.”   
  
“Aren’t we all,” Sunstreaker murmured. Cybercats were of no interest to him.   
  
He skimmed the gathered crowd, growing in abundance now. Another of Starscream’s favorite clients – Bluestreak – was here with his sub, the two of them unaccompanied for now. They curled together on one of the smaller lounges against the wall, looking as though they were about to put on an erotic floor show. Streamline would stop them before things got too messy.   
  
Sunstreaker moved on.   
  
Business was brisk. Clients moved into the back with their chosen companions. The cheaper, for lack of a better word, escorts were in high demand today. It would be a good day for sales.   
  
Despite that, Sunstreaker’s internals twisted into a knot. Starscream’s worry had left him with a tension all his own. Or maybe that was the sudden ripple of unease in the ambient fields, like a dark shroud had dropped on the gleam and glitter of Blue Sun.  
  
Sunstreaker turned toward the door and located the source of the tension.   
  
Turmoil darkened the doorway, massive and broad, his armor dark as though it had been blackened by the Pit. He had facemask and visor both, the latter a crimson hue.   
  
And Rodimus was in the greeting line. Rodimus turned into a statue. His spoiler went still. Color bleached from his face. His smile froze in place, better a grimace.   
  
Had no one thought to warn him?   
  
Turmoil’s head swiveled toward Rodimus as though there was magnetic attraction. His visor flashed, and if he hadn’t had a facemask, Sunstreaker knew he’d be smirking, like a predator who’d cornered his prey.   
  
Sunstreaker moved before he had to tell his feet to do so. He managed to get to Rodimus’ side in enough time to catch the tail end of Turmoil’s undoubtedly inappropriate comment.   
  
“--favorite,” Turmoil rasped in a tone that was just shy of lewd. “I’d say it’s a shame what happened, but from what I hear, you’re serving my mechs well.”   
  
Rodimus’ vents stuttered. He fell back a pace, and collided with Sunstreaker’s chest, his entire frame jolting with surprise.   
  
Sunstreaker stared hard at Turmoil as he put a gentle hand on Rodimus’ shoulder. He leaned forward, speaking into Rodimus’ audial, though he kept Turmoil’s gaze.   
  
“Nightshade’s summoned you, Hot Rod. Attend to him.”   
  
“What a shame,” Turmoil said, his voice like gravel in gears. “I was hoping I could experience your services for myself.” He leaned in, and Sunstreaker did not miss the way Rodimus leaned back, into Sunstreaker’s embrace, as though Sunstreaker could and would protect him.   
  
Sunstreaker smiled, wishing he could bare sharpened denta like Starscream. “Unfortunately, we are first-come, first-serve here.” He patted Rodimus on the shoulder again. “Go on, Hot Rod. You know Nightshade doesn’t like to wait.”   
  
Rodimus shuddered beneath Sunstreaker’s fingertips. “Yes, sir,” he said, in the quietest, most subservient tone Sunstreaker had ever heard from him.   
  
He slid across Sunstreaker’s frame as though moving even a step closer to Turmoil would be his undoing, and then he fled to the circle of lounges, where Nightshade and Starscream had taken up perch. He would still be close to Turmoil unfortunately, but Nightshade had premier status in Blue Sun. If anyone’s influence could protect Rodimus, it was Nightshade’s.   
  
Turmoil watched Rodimus go with hunger burning in his visor. Anger flashed hot and ferocious through Sunstreaker’s frame.   
  
In that moment, he understood why Starscream protected Rodimus so adamantly.   
  
“Such a shame,” Turmoil repeated before his gaze slid to Sunstreaker. “Then will you escort me to my seat?” He looked Sunstreaker up and down. “You don’t look as breakable, but I think we could have some fun nonetheless.”   
  
“I’m spoken for as well,” Sunstreaker said. “But I’d be happy to arrange for someone else to accompany you.” The script tumbled from his lips on rote. “If you’ll follow me, I believe we have a lounge reserved for you.”   
  
He didn’t wait for Turmoil to agree. He turned and expected Turmoil to follow, though his spark broiled and anger simmered. He led Turmoil to the reserved lounge, and since Streamline didn’t ping him to contradict, Sunstreaker knew he’d been correct.   
  
Turmoil paused before sitting, however. He glanced over at Nightshade, dismissing him immediately, but his attention lingered on the Enforcer to his other side.   
  
“Prowl,” he greeted in a tone that reeked of glee. “I see you arrived before me. Already partaking of the delights, too.”   
  
Prowl, apparently, tipped his head, one hand stroking down Atomizer’s thigh. “Unlike some mechs, I understand the value of time. I am never late.” His statement was pointed.   
  
Turmoil barked a laugh and flopped down into the lounge. “They said your glossa could be cutting.” He spread his arms across the back of the seat. “It’s a bit dull to me, but who I am to judge?”   
  
“I was being polite.” Ice-blue optics narrowed. “I’ll make sure to dispense with the formalities from this point forward.” Prowl set his jaw. “Did you bring me the item I asked for?”   
  
Turmoil waved him off. “Please. Let me get my entertainment before we talk official business. That’s what we’re here for.”  
  
Prowl sniffed and flicked his sensory panels. “If you insist.” He turned into Atomizer’s neck, his hand sliding further up Atomizer’s thigh, toward his groin.   
  
Atomizer giggled, a sound Sunstreaker found wholly unappealing, but Prowl seemed to enjoy it.   
  
Turmoil spread his thighs, taking an obnoxious amount of space in the lounge. His two buffoon guards took up point behind me.   
  
“Now you,” he said, directing his growl at Sunstreaker. “You’ve already denied me the tasty treat I wanted to ruin, so why don’t you bring me something else?”   
  
Sunstreaker twitched. He planted a fake smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.” The script demanded a ‘sir’.   
  
He refused.   
  
One of Turmoil’s guards – the tall, gangly one – leaned down and murmured into his boss’ audial. Turmoil’s visor turned stormy, his engine revving harshly.   
  
“I don’t need the reminder,” he growled. “This is business, too.” Turmoil flicked his hand at Sunstreaker. “Shoo. Get me your master instead. I’m sure he can give me what I want.”   
  
It rankled, the casual disrespect. But Sunstreaker pressed his lips together, tipped his head in a bow, and dismissed himself. The further he moved from Turmoil, the better.   
  
He pinged Streamline, not that it was necessary. Streamline was already making his way through the crowd, heading straight for Turmoil, his optics narrowed and his face pinched. Apparently he didn’t like being summoned anymore than Sunstreaker appreciated being dismissed.   
  
Sunstreaker returned to his perch. Rodimus was safely with Starscream and Nightshade. He curled in Starscream’s lap and fed Starscream treats which Nightshade must have purchased for them to enjoy.   
  
Voyeurs like Nightshade were beyond Sunstreaker’s capacity to fathom. He couldn’t imagine getting pleasure from watching and never participating. Or spending the amount of creds Nightshade did just to enjoy a view.   
  
It was baffling.   
  
Sunstreaker reclined in his perch, but couldn’t relax. He felt the tension in the air, like an itch under his plating. Turmoil laughed loudly where he sat, and grabbed one of the passing escorts, tossing the femme into his lap. Luckily, Aeroline was not the sort to protest. She only squeaked cutely, tossed her feet, and giggled. Either she didn’t know who Turmoil was, or it made no difference to her.   
  
Aeroline could take care of herself.   
  
Streamline made gestures, but Turmoil only seemed to be paying half attention to him. The rest was split between the treat sprawled in his lap – Aeroline – and the occasionally exchanged conversation with Prowl.   
  
Whatever their business was, Turmoil seemed to be amused by delaying it. His loud barks of laughter occasionally burst through the low hum of conversation. Prowl’s frown grew deeper, no matter how hard Atomizer pressed to his side.   
  
Tension simmered, like a frayed serpentine belt moments from snapping.   
  
Sunstreaker would have to be ready to act. Starscream was too close to Turmoil, and far too protective of Rodimus.   
  
Who knew what he would do.   
  


***


	5. Chapter 5

Every time Turmoil’s laugh echoed through the air, Rodimus flinched, and Nightshade noticed. His optics darkened with concern. He kept shoving treats at them, as though that would help.   
  
“Is he alright?” Nightshade asked, his voice barely audible over the noise of the sales floor.   
  
Starscream stroked his thumb over Rodimus’ bottom lip. “He’ll be fine. We appreciate your concern.” It was a novel thing, a client’s concern for them. It was one of the reasons he adored Nightshade so much.   
  
“Perhaps if we left…?” Nightshade suggested.   
  
Another bark of laughter, and Rodimus’ field went a sickly shade. He ignored the treat Starscream offered, his fingers curling tighter into Starscream’s seams. He was in no condition to service anyone. But with Turmoil here, there was no chance in the Pit Streamline would let Rodimus leave the sales floor with anyone but a patron.   
  
“That’s probably for the best,” Starscream said. He urged Rodimus out of his lap, and with evident reluctance, Rodimus stood. “We could move to a private lounge if you aren’t interested in a show.”   
  
“Given the circumstances, not until either of you are more comfortable.” Nightshade unfolded himself from the couch, concern casting a pall over his field. “I’d much prefer a more… enthused show and if we need privacy for you to relax, I’m all for it.”   
  
Starscream smiled genuinely, and stood, slinging an arm around Rodimus’ waist and tugging the speedster against him. “And that’s why you’re our favorite. Isn’t that right, Roddy?”   
  
Rodimus managed a smile, a pale shade of his usual exuberance. “One of at least,” he teased and snuggled into Starscream’s side, his fingers flirting over Starscream’s abdomen. “We’ll make it up to you, I promise.”   
  
Nightshade smiled in return. He reached out, gently tweaking Rodimus’ chin. “I already know you will.” He turned to flag down a server in order to reserve a room.   
  
“It’s going to be fine,” Starscream murmured as he felt Rodimus’ tension.   
  
Rodimus snorted. “Easy for you to say.”   
  
“You know, Streamline, I still haven’t received any decent entertainment,” Turmoil said behind them, too loud for it to be anything but a comment their direction.   
  
Rodimus’ fingers shook as they curled in Starscream’s seams. He went so rigid, he could have been carved from Praxian crystal.   
  
“You’ll find something more than decent here,” Streamline replied, his tone a touch annoyed. “If you’re wanting something specific, just say so.”   
  
Turmoil laughed and the sound clawed up Starscream’s spinal strut like a whipping he hadn’t asked for. “You should know what I like by now. Flashy. Small. Meek. Red’s my favorite color, you know.”   
  
Starscream glared over his shoulder. Turmoil stared unerringly in their direction, the sharp red gleam of his visor like a smelting pot. He’d been fondling Aeroline for the past ten minutes, but she was gone now.   
  
Too pink for his tastes apparently.   
  
“Something I’ve sampled before,” Turmoil continued as he tilted his head, his gaze a challenge at Starscream. “Something that screams quite pretty when you get him on his knees.”   
  
Starscream’s lip curled. Rodimus made a sound, like a thin whine, but it was quickly swallowed.  
  
“Sounds like you already have someone specific in mind,” Streamline said. He shifted and gave Starscream a pointed look. “Come here, Hot Rod.”   
  
Rodimus hesitated. His fingers were like hooks on Starscream’s armor. But even afraid, he knew better than to disobey Streamline.   
  
As much as Starscream wanted to haul him back close, he couldn’t. Nightshade hadn’t returned with their reservation. Technically, Rodimus was still unclaimed.   
  
Rodimus unclenched his fingers and stepped out of Starscream’s reach. His armor slicked tight to his protoform, he had to be overheating, and his smile was strained.   
  
“Yeah, boss? You needed me?” False service glittered in his field.   
  
“Need is a strong word,” Turmoil said, intercepting Rodimus’ attention. His visor raked up and down Rodimus’ frame as though interfacing him with a single look. “We have some unfinished business.” He planted a foot against the low table in front of him and patted his lap. “Come here.”   
  
Rodimus stiffened. He went pale all over again.   
  
Starscream stepped in front of him. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. But he’s spoken for already,” he said, in a tone carefully cultivated for their patrons.   
  
Streamline growled a warning. “Starscream.”   
  
Turmoil tilted his head. “So I’ve heard. But it’s first come, first served, isn’t it? That’s what the yellow one told me.” He jerked his thumb in Sunstreaker’s direction before pointing at Rodimus. “And that one’s been mine since before his cute aft got sent here. So technically, I was here first. And as it turns out, I’ve been missing my favorite berthwarmer.”   
  
“I apologize, sir,” Starscream replied through gritted teeth, pulling Rodimus further behind him, “but it doesn’t quite work that way here at Blue Sun. You’ll have to choose another. We have many beautiful and talented escorts who’d be happy to accompany you this evening.”   
  
Rodimus pressed against his back. “Starscream,  _don’t_.” It was a quiet plea, but Starscream felt him tremble. He didn’t want to go anywhere with Turmoil. And Starscream would stand here and make sure that didn’t happen.   
  
Turmoil might just kill Rodimus and hang the debt.   
  
“Hush,” Starscream hissed.   
  
“Yes, Rodimus. Hush. Though you never were very good at that.” Turmoil drummed his fingers on his thigh before he pushed to his feet. “Streamline, are all your employees as insubordinate as this one? Perhaps your discipline is lacking?”   
  
“Starscream is a special case,” Streamline said in a tight tone. Anger flashed behind his optics, but at least he didn’t bow and scrape to Turmoil like a lackey. “He’s also wrong. Hot Rod is not currently engaged by any patron in the establishment. You’re free to take his commission.”   
  
Damn it. Of course Streamline would check the registers and see that Nightshade had, in fact, not hired Rodimus. He hadn’t hired either of them yet. He was still trying to flag down a server, though now his attention was on the interplay behind him.   
  
“Or you could take mine,” Starscream suggested, and added a becoming tone to his voice. “I’m better than Hot Rod in every way. I’ll even throw in a discount.”  
  
Turmoil laughed. “You two fragging or something? Because that’s an awful lot of effort to protect something that doesn’t matter.” He moved closer to them, within reach. “I don’t want you, Seeker. So give me my toy before you get yourself hurt over it.”   
  
‘Star!’ Sunstreaker pinged him, the urgency and concern in his comm enough to make Starscream’s spark throb.   
  
He glanced at his roommate. Sunstreaker’s face was drawn and pale, like before he had an episode, or when he needed a spark charge to keep himself going.   
  
He’d understand. Or at least, Starscream hoped he did.   
  
Starscream squared his shoulders and narrowed his optics. “I get hurt for creds all the time. What makes you think protecting a friend from a mindless brute like you is any less worth it to me?” He tossed his head, suddenly feeling every inch the lord of the skies Seekers were supposed to be. “I’m not afraid of you.”   
  
Turmoil’s visor flashed. “You should be.”   
  
He moved, faster than Starscream thought a mech his size should be capable, hand seizing Starscream’s nearest wing. His grip was like duryllium, and there was an abrupt, sharp pain rippling through Starscream’s sensory net.   
  
He buried a scream behind a hiss and stumbled when Turmoil jerked him closer, his other hand snatching Starscream’s chin.   
  
“If you were less mouthy, you’d almost be cute,” Turmoil said as he turned Starscream’s jaw this way and that. “Though I have a feeling it would be fun to break you.”   
  
Starscream’s processor spun. Error messages lit up his HUD like fireworks as metal creaked and Turmoil’s grip tightened. Something snapped, something important, and a thin whine eeked in his intake.   
  
His hands curled into fists. His vents turned ragged. He couldn’t… he wasn’t allowed to…  
  
“Turmoil, if you break my merchandise, you have to buy it,” Streamline said in a bland tone.   
  
He was such a fragging  _coward_  when it came to his business contacts. Knowing that said businesses were worth more than the loss of a single Seeker buymech. Starscream was replaceable, like so many of his kin.   
  
Frag him. Frag all of them. Starscream was worth it, and Rodimus was, too.   
  
“He offered to be broken. I’m only giving him what he wants,” Turmoil said, his grip on Starscream’s chin painfully tight. “Isn’t that right, Seeker? I can take you to a room, and tear you apart, and you’ll let me. So long as I leave the whore behind you out of it?”   
  
Starscream’s ventilations gasped. His wing  _burned_. “Yes, sir,” he gritted out as Sunstreaker’s pings blasted his comm. “That’s what I said.”   
  
Silence fell like a weight through the main room. Starscream felt it, sure as he felt the optics on them, customers and escorts alike watching the events. Sure as he felt Sunstreaker getting closer, grumbling, pushing through the curious throng.  
  
Turmoil chuckled darkly, and something went pop in Starscream’s wing, something that sent a white-hot shock of agony through his frame.   
  
“Stop it!”   
  
Rodimus’ voice cut through the haze.   
  
“Let him go!”  
  
Fire blazed in his wing. Starscream stumbled backward as someone yanked on him, tearing him from Turmoil’s grip. He listed, knees wobbling, and a blur of orange and red planted itself in front of him.   
  
“I’m here. Just take me already,” Rodimus snarled, his hands fisting at his sides, his spoiler trembling.   
  
Turmoil’s visor brightened with delight. “You have a spinal strut after all, pet.” His fingers closed around Rodimus’ wrist, dragging him close, highlighting the obscene size difference between them.   
  
Starscream tried to speak, his vocalizer crackling. He tried to grab Rodimus and missed, and then there were hands on him, holding him upright.   
  
“It’s all right, Starscream.”   
  
He knew this voice, murmuring in his audial, though he’d never heard it with this tone.   
  
“I have this under control,” Nightshade said.   
  
Turmoil slid a possessive hand around the back of Rodimus’ head, and Rodimus’ field sank into a sickly poisoned sludge.   
  
“Hold on a moment, please.”   
  
Starscream did not know this voice. But it cut through the tension like a vibroblade through a mech’s undercarriage.   
  
In his periphery, the Enforcer rose to his feet, and Atomizer beside him, though there was none of the seductive grace in Atomizer’s stance. The Enforcer had a hand pressed to his comm, and a thoughtful look on his face. He nodded, though the person on the other end couldn’t possibly see him.   
  
“You’re certain?” the Enforcer asked as he stared at Turmoil, his lips sliding from a thin press to a small smirk. Atomizer draped against his side, but there was challenge in his visor. “I will not be satisfied with anything less than one-hundred percent.” He paused as Atomizer stroked over the flat of his belly, flirtatious and unconcerned. “Very well. Thank you.”   
  
“Prowl, what is the meaning of this?” Turmoil demanded with a growl that made Starscream’s plating crawl. His hold on Rodimus loosened, and Rodimus tore himself free, scrambling backward, into Starscream’s reach.   
  
“You know, you cause trouble wherever you go,” Prowl said with a soft sigh. His thigh panel popped open, and he withdrew a blaster. “But I’m grateful for that, as it gives me the opportunity to arrest you. And I’ve been wanting to do that for the better part of a century.”   
  
You could have heard energon splatter on the floor.   
  
Starscream froze. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He swayed, and Nightshade behind him was suddenly as strong and sturdy as a rock.   
  
“The frag?” Turmoil reared back, his engine roaring. “This some kind of joke?”   
  
“No, it’s not.” The harsh whine of a blaster charging ratcheted up the tension as Turmoil’s tall and gangly guard pointed a gun at his master’s head. “Sorry, boss. But as it turns out, Prowl pays better. Plus, he’s a hell of a lot cuter.”   
  
“Tumbler, be quiet.”   
  
Tumbler’s visor flashed with humor. “Sure thing, boss.” The end of his blaster tapped the side of Turmoil’s head. “And by boss, I meant Prowl. Not you.”   
  
Turmoil growled. His field throbbed through the room, heavy with menace, and Starscream swayed a bit more.   
  
He caught Rodimus’ shoulder with one hand, pulling Rodimus back against him, and Rodimus came willingly. He still shook in earnest.   
  
“You should drop it, Tumbler,” said Turmoil’s other guard. He drew his own blaster and aimed it at Tumbler’s head. “Me and the boss, we’re both getting out of here, understand me?”   
  
“You might want to rethink that, pal.”   
  
Starscream stiffened. He knew that voice, too. He followed it right to a lounge along the wall, where Bluestreak had a sniper rifle casually leveled at Turmoil’s other guard. Jazz draped himself across the back of the lounge, and Bluestreak by proxy. He looked as pleased as a cybercat who caught the metallocanary.   
  
“My sparkmate here has the best aim in the universe,” Jazz continued, still with that lazy, unbothered drawl. “Can pick a rivet off a scout ship from half a planet away, he can.”   
  
Bluestreak rolled his optics. “Don’t exaggerate, pet.” His rifle didn’t waver.   
  
“Yes, dear.” Jazz’s grin broadened. One hand toyed with the nearest of Bluestreak’s sensory panels, the other rested possessively over Bluestreak’s ample chassis. “So Turmoil, as you see, you’re out of options. And completely surrounded.”   
  
Turmoil snarled, his field lancing through the room. “This was you, wasn’t it?” he growled, massive finger pointing at Rodimus, who recoiled back against Starscream. “You think you can tattle on me and it’ll save you? You think these Enforcers care about some shareware?   
  
“Actually.” Drift stepped out of the crowd, which had thinned remarkably, many of the escorts slowly but surely vanishing to the exits. “It was me.”   
  
Turmoil stared at him. “Who the frag are--” He cut off as recognition dawned, and then his visor flashed with rage. “Deadlock,” he snarled, and the sound of it sent a shiver of almost-fear down Starscream’s spine.  
  
There was murder most foul in Turmoil’s visor and in his field.   
  
His foot clomped on the floor as he took a step toward Drift, hands clenching in and out of fists at his side, as though nothing else existed in the room but his rage at what Deadlock had done.   
  
“When I’m through with this nonsense, you’ll wish your sparker had never left you to die in that gutter,” Turmoil hissed.   
  
“Through?” Prowl echoed and waved Atomizer off his side with a flick of his fingers. “Turmoil, I don’t think you comprehend what is happening here. Where you’re going, you’ll never see the light of Luna-One again.”   
  
Turmoil swung back toward the Enforcer, as though Tumbler’s blaster against his head was nothing to be concerned about. “If you want that precious artifact you came here to buy, you’d better be prepared to make a deal.”   
  
Prowl didn’t look the least bit ruffled. He arched an orbital ridge, the corner of his mouth twitching as though he wanted to smile.   
  
As if on cue, the main doors opened. Everyone stiffened. Blasters whined. A large blue mech Starscream had never seen before strolled inside, a cybercat at his heels, and an avian cassette on his shoulder, opposite some kind of mounted blaster. Both visor and mouthguard his his face from view. He had a box of some kind in one of his hands.   
  
“Target acquired,” he said, in a monotone that would have envied Compute.   
  
Prowl’s sensory panels twitched. “Thank you, Soundwave. You are always so punctual with these things.”  
  
Soundwave tipped his head. “Compliment appreciated.” The bird on his shoulder chirped.   
  
Prowl accepted the box and gave it a telling wiggle. Whatever was inside clunked as it hit the edges of the box. “Did you mean this artifact?”  
  
Turmoil’s field went incandescent with rage. “How--”  
  
“Do not presume to think I am dumber than you.” Prowl’s optics went ice blue and cold. “Unlike you, I do not make mistakes.” He tucked the artifact behind his back and moved closer to Turmoil, the mob boss towering over him, though Prowl looked not the least bit bothered by this. “I will enjoy watching them strip your spark from you.”   
  
Turmoil’s vents heaved. “When I am free, I will rend your head from your shoulders. And then I’ll come for the rest.”   
  
“You may try.” Prowl turned away with a sharp clip. “Arrest him and take him to the transport.”   
  
Turmoil roared.   
  
Chaos reigned.   
  
Mechs rushed forward: Drift and Spinner, Skids from who the frag knew where, Atomizer, the one named Tumbler. They threw themselves at Turmoil.   
  
Starscream stumbled as both he and Rodimus were abruptly pulled backward, and Nightshade surged in front of them. Taller he might be, but there was less mass to Nightshade. Someone like him couldn’t possibly stand up to Turmoil.   
  
“Stay behind me,” Nightshade said in a tone that demanded obedience. If he was at all concerned by the threat Turmoil presented, he didn’t show it.   
  
Starscream’s processor spun. His wing ached. He felt dizzy and swayed, and only Rodimus grabbing his elbow kept him from staggering.   
  
What in Primus’ name was going on?  
  
Past Nightshade, a struggle raged and roared. Someone shot Turmoil with what looked like blue-white fire.   
  
It sizzled and crackled. Turmoil dropped to a knee, mechs draping from his massive frame like extra bits of kibble.   
  
Turmoil’s remaining loyal guard tried to flee. Soundwave’s cassettes – the cat and the bird – converged on him, bringing him down with little effort.   
  
Turmoil raged. Cuffs slapped around his wrist. Starscream couldn’t tell who’d used them on the madness.   
  
Turmoil struggled, but the cuffs dampened his energy, made him weak and pliable. Unfortunately, it didn’t curb his glossa, for he yelled vitriol as they pulled him away. He cursed Prowl. He threatened Streamline. He saved the tastiest tidbits for Drift and Rodimus, words that didn’t bear repeating.   
  
Rodimus threw himself into Starscream’s arms, clinging tight, as if he thought he could mold their frames together.   
  
“I thought he was going to hurt you,” Rodimus said, muffled against Starscream’s cockpit. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”   
  
“No, it’s not.” Starscream leaned heavily on Rodimus, his wing aching more and more with each passing moment. There was a bent strut, he was sure of it.   
  
Rodimus’ fingers dug into his seams. “Yes, it is. If he’d killed you...”   
  
“But he did not, and you are safe.” Starscream tilted his head against Rodimus’, sliding his arms around the younger mech’s frame. “You’re free of him now.”   
  
“I’m never going to be free,” Rodimus murmured in a bleak tone. “Never.”   
  
Starscream cycled a ventilation. He wasn’t one to give false hope. But he wasn’t one to wallow in despair either. There was always the chance Turmoil managed to evade justice. He’d done it before, though under different circumstances.   
  
Arms enfolded Starscream from behind, though careful of his wing. Starscream caught a whiff of expensive polish before he could relax.   
  
“You fool,” Sunstreaker whispered, fierce and angry and relieved into Starscream’s audial. “You utter fool.”   
  
For once, Starscream allowed the chastisement. His roommate was not wrong. Turmoil could have killed him.   
  
“It’s fine,” Starscream replied. “It’s over now.”   
  
“You need to see Wrench,” Sunstreaker said, arms tight around Starscream’s abdomen, his field a nauseating swirl of worry and anger.   
  
“Later.” Starscream cycled several ventilations, but there was a rattle in his vents, in his knees.   
  
He’d never been more aware of his mortality until now.   
  
Investigative forces trooped into Blue Sun. Turmoil vanished out the door, probably to be stuffed into a transport and hopefully, he’d be discarded into a deep, dark pit where no one would ever see him again.   
  
“Don’t ever do that again,” Sunstreaker murmured.   
  
“I’m so sorry,” Rodimus whispered.   
  
A deep, dark pit wasn’t good enough, Starscream decided.   
  
There wasn’t enough justice in the world.   
  


****


	6. Chapter 6

Blue Sun was closed, for a week at minimum according to Prowl, pending an investigation. Streamline worried whether or not they’d ever recover.   
  
Starscream was less concerned. Mechs would always have creds to spend on pleasure. Their customers would be back.   
  
Fewer escorts jumped ship than expected. Only a handful quit, though Streamline wasn’t interested in filling their slots anytime soon. He was too preoccupied with keeping his aft out of prison.   
  
Apparently, Streamline had made a deal with the Enforcers – he’d turn over everything he knew about Turmoil, as well as provide a stage for the final exchange, and they would not prosecute him. They would pretend he’d never been involved. He would, more or less, escape cleanly.   
  
Good news for him.   
  
Bad news for Rodimus, who’d held a thin hope that Turmoil’s arrest might make his debt disappear. But Streamline owned his debt, and if Streamline couldn’t be prosecuted for it, then Rodimus was still liable for it. Maybe he wasn’t wrong when he said he couldn’t escape. Maybe none of them would.   
  
Those who stuck around for Blue Sun’s eventual reopening treated the week like a vacation. There was not an escort to be found within the four walls. They’d all scampered elsewhere, enjoying their temporary vacation. Starscream wondered how many would actually return, and how many would be lost to more… dangerous temptations.   
  
Starscream managed to convince Sunstreaker that they, too, needed to be free of Blue Sun, even if only for a day. More than that, Rodimus needed to see what freedom would mean, once he earned enough creds. He also should be far from the investigators poking into the nooks and crannies of Blue Sun, the ones who kept giving Rodimus speculative looks like they wanted to arrest him as well.   
  
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Rodimus asked as they ventured out the front door of Blue Sun, polish toned down to blend with the crowd, their face paint and markings scrubbed clean of their frames.   
  
Well, Starscream’s and Rodimus’ polish was muted and appropriate for the common masses. Sunstreaker couldn’t be convinced to leave looking anything less than perfection, though he’d removed the markings easily enough.   
  
“Of course. It’s not like we have to be on shift anytime soon,” Starscream assured him with a smile. “And I think we all need to get out of Blue Sun for awhile.”   
  
“It might even be safer now that Turmoil is behind bars,” Sunstreaker said.   
  
Starscream shot him a look. Rodimus stiffened.   
  
He laughed and scratched at his jaw, though the smile didn’t reach his optics. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, and spun around, tucking his hands behind his back. “So where to first?”   
  
“Wherever you want.” Starscream injected brightness into his tone. “But there’s an exhibition at the Pavilion if you’re looking for suggestions?”   
  
“What kind of exhibition?” Rodimus spun back around, walking backward, his spoiler twitching upward with evident glee, like it hadn’t in days.   
  
“All kinds.” Starscream followed him, Sunstreaker in step beside him. “It’s sort of like a shopper’s fair for new merchants. They’re competing for five open storefronts in the new center they’re opening up, so they’re all trying to build a customer base to prove they are suited for business.”   
  
“Let’s go there!” Rodimus’ face brightened. He grinned, and Primus, it was unfair how adorable he was. “Sounds like fun.”   
  
Starscream grinned. “You know the way?”   
  
“Yep. Follow me!” Rodimus whirled back around and pointed ahead of him, picking up a rapid pace as he pushed through the crowd like he’d lived here all his functioning.   
  
And well, he probably had. Blue Sun and this particular market district were all within Turmoil’s stomping ground. Had Rodimus ever walked these streets freely? With creds in his subspace? Creds he could spend?   
  
Starscream and Sunstreaker maintained a more sedate pace. Rodimus was full of restless energy, so he could be forgiven for near-skipping.   
  
Starscream could not blame him. He’d been pulled in for multiple interviews in the wake of Turmoil’s arrest, and it had been Drift who ensured Rodimus would suffer no punishment for anything he participated in under Turmoil’s control. But he had given the Enforcers several key details they’d been lacking.   
  
With any luck, Turmoil would never be free of his cage ever again. If there was truly a fair deity, he’d get the ultimate punishment of spark imprisonment.   
  
“Not to echo Rodimus, but are you sure this is a good idea?” Sunstreaker said suddenly. He made a pointed glance to Starscream’s splinted wing. “Shouldn’t you still be resting?”   
  
Starscream would have shrugged, but that would have caused pain to radiate from his right wing, disproving his point. “I can’t rest anymore. Besides, it’s a walk. What harm is that going to do?”   
  
Sunstreaker’s mouth opened as though he wanted to say something else, before it clamped shut again. His expression rippled, and then he tore his gaze away. “You’d know best.”   
  
“I appreciate you being worried about me though,” Starscream said, keeping his tone gentle, trying to aim for the camaraderie that used to come so easy to them. “Been a long time since anyone cared what happened to me.”   
  
Sunstreaker sighed and stared hard at the backs of the mechs walking in front of him. “It would be difficult to train a new roommate.”  
  
Starscream’s lips curved. “You’d be lost without me.” He rolled his optics. “And you know it.”   
  
“Yeah, I guess I would,” Sunstreaker said, but it was almost absent, like he’d let it slip without meaning to.   
  
Starscream stared at him, his spark pounding hard in his chassis. “Sunny, what--”  
  
“Hey, come on you two! Stop lagging behind!” Rodimus shouted ahead of them. He waved his arms wildly to get their attention, standing in a mill of mechs all trying to get into the exhibition hall.   
  
Sunstreaker twitched. “Guess we better hurry before he gathers even more attention.” His pace quickened. “Slow down, Rodimus. We’re coming.”   
  
Starscream lagged behind, only because Sunstreaker had left him so stunned. Sunstreaker caught up to Rodimus, the two of them exchanging some conversation that made Rodimus laugh. They moved into the exhibition hall, leaving Starscream milling outside with the rest of the crowd.   
  
Damn it.   
  
He hustled to catch up.  
  


~

  
  
“Look what I found!”  
  
Rodimus’ gleeful announcement distracted Starscream from his perusal of more storypads that he didn’t need anyway.   
  
“What is it?” Starscream turned to face the other mech.   
  
Only for a finger to poke between his lips, painting his glossa in something tartly sweet. Rodimus beamed up at him, half-innocence, half-mischief, his spoiler canted high.   
  
“Edible paint,” he said with obvious glee. “Tasty, huh?” He drew his finger free, and Starscream’s glossa swept over his lips in its absence.   
  
“It is not unpleasant,” Starscream admitted, and he peered at the container in Rodimus’ hands. The substance was frightfully glittery. “You didn’t pay too much, I hope.”   
  
“I wouldn’t know if it’s overpriced or not.” Rodimus laughed. His field poked at Starscream’s, rich with amusement. “But I thought it would be fun to play with.” He thrust the container toward Starscream. “This one’s for you and Sunstreaker.”   
  
“Did you pick something out for yourself?” Starscream accepted the container and peered at the ingredient level. One could never be too careful. For all he knew, this stuff was toxic to a Seeker.   
  
Rodimus peered at his finger and poked it in his mouth, swirling it around to lick it clean. Apparently Starscream’s own glossa hadn’t done the trick. “I did,” he said around his mouthful. “But I’m not going to tell you what it was.” He pulled his finger free with a pop. “It’s a surprise.”   
  
“I wait with bated breath,” Starscream drawled. He sniffed at the so-called edible paint.   
  
It was an interesting concoction. Perhaps he could reproduce it on his own, design several more colors to go with it. Garish bright orange was not appealing in the least.   
  
“Where’s Sunstreaker?” Rodimus asked. True to form, by the time Starscream had entered the exhibition hall, both Rodimus and Sunstreaker had vanished.   
  
Starscream had shrugged and started shopping on his own. He’d spied Sunstreaker a few stalls back, but he’d still been keeping an optic out for Rodimus.   
  
“Arguing with the mech selling canvases,” Starscream replied absently. “Apparently they are of poor quality, and it offends his artistic sensibilities.”   
  
Rodimus crinkled his forehead. “Okay, but… why bother? No one says he has to buy them?”   
  
“Yes, I know. It’s offensive that they exist, he says.” Starscream rolled his optics and tucked the paint into his subspace. “To each his own.”   
  
Rodimus made a noncommittal noise. “I guess.” He shrugged and looped his arm with Starscream’s. “Well, come with me then. I found something I know you’re going to like.” Starscream allowed himself to be dragged. Rodimus’ enthusiasm was gratifying to see.   
  
“You know me so well, do you?” Starscream asked.   
  
“By now? Yeah, I do. Better than you know yourself, I’ll bet,” Rodimus said. He tucked in against Starscream’s side, guiding them effortlessly through the crowds. “Or, well, I mean, better than you’re willing to admit.”   
  
“Well, aren’t you the little know-it-all.”   
  
Rodimus smirked. “I know enough,” he said, his tone smug. He pulled Starscream through a makeshift gate and into a very small seating area. It was occupied by a few mechs.   
  
On the far end was a long counter of display cases. Cheap lights flickered over a glittery selection of treats. Oh, my. Starscream’s mouth watered. Were those… were those oil cakes? And magnesium puffs? Rust sticks? Rust chews?   
  
He didn’t press his nose to the case, but it was a near thing. His tank rippled, reminding him that while he’d had his daily dose of energon, it was nothing like satisfying a craving. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had genuine pastries.   
  
“The spiced roll is particularly good,” Rodimus said from his right side. He pointed to a tray of twisted treats, dusted with some mixture of metallic shavings.   
  
“I want two,” Starscream groaned, even though he knew he shouldn’t.   
  
“I thought you might,” Rodimus said, absolutely smug. He stepped up to the register, catching the attention of the smiling clerk on duty. “Could I get two slushes, two of the spice rolls, a strip of sweet taffy, and anything else he wants.”   
  
The mech, whose nameplate read Rocky, grinned. “Sure thing. You know I can do an assortment plate, too. How about that? It’s a little bit of everything.”   
  
Starscream tried not to show evident interest. He pretended the spice rolls were the only thing that appealed to him. But he must have betrayed himself somehow, because Rodimus laughed and said, “Yeah, I think that’s best. Star’s going to want to try it all.” He whipped out a cred stick and handed it over. “The assortment plate, plus two extra of the spice rolls and the slushes.”   
  
“Sure thing.” Rocky winked one of his three optics, and the cred stick vanished. “Have a seat. I’ll bring it out to you.”   
  
“I’m not a youngling, you know,” Starscream muttered as Rodimus pulled him over to one of the tables. The chairs didn’t look capable of bearing anyone’s weight.   
  
“So that means I can’t spoil you? Or say thank you?” Rodimus pushed him into a seat and sat across from him, folding his arms on the table. “You think I don’t know what you did for me?”   
  
Starscream sat gingerly and squirmed. “I did nothing special.”   
  
“You saved my life. In more ways than I can count.” Rodimus shook his head, a darkness flickering through his optics. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be a freebie in Blue Sun. I wouldn’t have made any creds toward my debt. And Turmoil probably would have had his fun with me half a week ago. Do you have any idea how terrified I was?”  
  
Starscream chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Some.” He remembered how much Rodimus had trembled, how his field had become this sick, curdled thing.   
  
“The kind of thing we do, what we are, most mechs wouldn’t care. But you did.” Rodimus nibbled on his bottom lip and ducked his head. “Most mechs wouldn’t have bothered. So yeah. I’m grateful. I don’t think I can ever repay you. If treating you to some sweets I know you wouldn’t get for yourself is all I can do, I’m going to do it.”   
  
Starscream’s wingtips fluttered. “I… you’re welcome.” His face flushed with heat.   
  
What else could he say? Clearly, his actions had meant a lot to Rodimus, whatever Starscream’s original intentions had been. Starscream was not so cruel as to spit in the face of Rodimus’ gratitude.   
  
Rodimus smiled, soft and sincere, echoes of the young, bright youth he must have been.   
  
“Here you go!” Rocky arrived, dispelling the moment.   
  
His cheerful tone slipped between them as he whisked a platter filled with over a dozen treats onto the table. He set some type of small, chilled glass before each of them as well. Starscream received his own plate of spice rolls.   
  
“I hope you enjoy!” Rocky said as he gestured to the plate with one of his primary arms. “If you do, please make sure to leave us a favorable commentary on the board, that way we can continue to provide this service.”   
  
Rodimus grabbed a small puff and popped it into his mouth. “Done deal, mech. Your stuff is delicious.”   
  
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.” Rocky bobbed his head in gratitude and scuttled off, leaving them to sample his fare without standing over them.   
  
“Well.” Rodimus spread his hands. “Dig in. Eat as much as you want. Whatever’s left we can take with us.”   
  
Starscream, for once, listened. They were on vacation, weren’t they? So what if he wanted to consume himself into another ache? He had every right. So he piled his plate high with at least one of everything, and started to eat.   
  
There wasn’t a single selection he didn’t like.   
  
The treats were sweet and savory, tart and delectable. They were chewy or smooth; some melted in his mouth. He hummed his delight, though Rodimus was right, the spice rolls were his favorite. Even the slush tasted good, though it was unusual. It was a chilled energon, with little nodules of some kind of gelled energon, and it had an odd texture to it. But it was sweet and cool and puddled in his tanks, offering little spurts of energy. Starscream resolved to save some of it, if only so he could run tests and see how it was created. Perhaps Wheeljack would have some ideas.   
  
“I should have known I’d find you here.”   
  
The little flick of delight in his spark was wholly warranted, but Starscream had long since learned his spark didn’t obey him when it came to Sunstreaker. His roommate slid into the empty seat beside him, his optics assessing the array of treats spread across the table.   
  
“Did you buy the whole case?” Sunstreaker asked.   
  
“I didn’t buy anything,” Starscream retorted. His wings flicked back. “Rodimus did.” He pointed his fork at Rodimus and promptly speared a spice roll, plopping it down onto his serving plate. They were only a handful of bites, but he still wanted to savor each and every one. They were delicious.   
  
Rodimus laughed. “Yes, but I bought them for you.” He scooped up one of the drizzled oil cakes and slid it over to Sunstreaker. “Here. I know you’ll like this one.”   
  
“I doubt it. Sunstreaker’s not fond of sweets,” Starscream muttered around a mouthful.   
  
“It’s not sweet,” Rodimus said, and nudged it closer. “Go on. Try it. Expand your horizons.”   
  
Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. He stared at the cake as though it were created to personally offend him. He poked it with a fork.   
  
“Did you manage to badger the salesmech into submission?” Starscream asked, his tone carefully innocent.   
  
Sunstreaker rolled his optics and cut into the cake. “We came to an understanding. He won’t sell his product under false pretenses anymore, and I won’t report him to the Enforcers.” He selected the smallest piece, peered at it, and then poked it into his mouth. That he didn’t immediately spit it out was a good sign.   
  
Rodimus propped his elbows on the edge of the rickety table. “Look at you. The picture of law and order. We should all live by your example.”   
  
Sunstreaker huffed and forked more of the cake into his mouth. He didn’t dignify Rodimus with a response, which in Sunstreaker-speak meant, he knew Rodimus was right but refused to admit it. Stubborn mech.   
  
“Did you buy anything?” Starscream nudged his slush toward Sunstreaker in silent suggestion he try it.   
  
“Not yet.” Sunstreaker sniffed at the slush before giving it a tentative sip. He made a face and gave it back. “But we’re not even halfway through the exhibition. I’m sure I’ll find something.”   
  
“I thought I saw a stand selling waxing kits and supplies.” Rodimus nonchalantly dropped something onto Sunstreaker’s plate. “We could check that out.”   
  
Starscream’s lips curved with amusement. “You really do know us well.”   
  
Rodimus winked and stuffed more puffs into his mouth. “Better than you think.”   
  
Sunstreaker snorted and rolled his optics. But he kept eating the cake Rodimus had given him, thereby proving Rodimus’ point.   
  


~

  
  
Reality returned with a vengeance as they rounded the corner, and Starscream caught sight of who waited for them in front of Blue Sun. If they were trying for inconspicuous, they both failed miserably.   
  
“What are Nightshade and Drift doing here?” Sunstreaker asked as ahead of them, Rodimus’ eager pace slowed.   
  
“I have no idea,” Starscream murmured and caught up to Rodimus. “It’s okay. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”   
  
“How are you so optimistic suddenly?” Sunstreaker appeared on Starscream’s other side before he passed them, soldiering on as though determined to prove he wasn’t afraid and never had been.   
  
“Because I have to be.” Starscream hooked his arm through Rodimus’. “Come. Let’s go see what they want.”   
  
“I’d rather run away,” Rodimus muttered, but he let Starscream pull him along.   
  
They warily approached the waiting mechs. Sunstreaker angled to put himself between the four of them, his broad, gold shoulders a protective wall.   
  
“Afternoon,” Nightshade greeted, his tone carefully pleasant. “You three are looking very well.”  
  
“Spare us the niceties. Why are you here?” Sunstreaker said, ever polite that one. His armor ruched up, aggressive and angry.   
  
Starscream sighed. He unloosened his arm from Rodimus’ and placed a hand on Sunstreaker’s shoulder to tug his roommate back a pace.   
  
“What Sunstreaker means to say is that the week has been stressful enough. We don’t have the patience we ought.” He offered Nightshade a genuine smile. He ignored Drift. “What can we do for you?”   
  
“You can relax, to start.” Nightshade shifted into a stance that better qualified as ‘at rest’ while Drift lingered in ‘attention’. “We are only here to talk.” He looked at Rodimus. “If you have a moment, Rodimus, Drift would like to speak with you.”   
  
Starscream glanced at Rodimus, but where he expected there to be anger, staunch refusal even, Rodimus only cycled a ventilation. He shifted the weight of his packages.   
  
“Yeah,” Rodimus said with a sigh. “Okay. That’s fair.” He tucked his parcel under one arm. “Let’s go. I’m not going to talk this out where everyone can eavesdrop, even if I am going to tell Star all about it later.”   
  
Despite the situation, Starscream chuckled softly. He was delighted to see Rodimus regaining some of his usual attitude.   
  
Rodimus gestured for Drift to come with him and the two entered Blue Sun.   
  
“I feel as if I owe you several explanations,” Nightshade said once they were gone. His tone was gentle. Apologetic even.   
  
Starscream shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. You are a client. Whatever you do when you are not within the walls of Blue Sun are your business.” He paused and leaned in closer to Sunstreaker. “But if you’d like to tell me, I wouldn’t mind.”   
  
He had so many questions, he wouldn’t even know where to begin.   
  
“I understand. Come with me.” Nightshade tucked his hands behind his back and turned toward Blue Sun’s main entrance, where Rodimus and Drift had gone. Strange that he should be allowed to come and go so freely.   
  
Blue Sun felt odd, quiet and dim as it was, without the usual bustle of activity on the sales floor. Everything had been cleaned and put to rights after Turmoil’s arrest, but it still didn’t feel the same. Something in the atmosphere had changed.   
  
Rodimus and Drift were nowhere in sight. They must have sought privacy elsewhere.   
  
Nightshade selected a comfortable chair while Sunstreaker and Starscream shared a lounge across from him. Starscream sat, rigid and waiting. Sunstreaker might as well have been carved from stone beside him.   
  
“It is probably quite obvious I am not entirely who I claimed to be.” Nightshade laced his fingers together, resting them in his lap. “I am not a merchant who earned his creds through smart investing and family inheritance, though the latter is true in part.” He looked perfectly at ease, one leg crossed over the other.   
  
“I am, in fact, superintendent of an elite investigative task force who operates in the shadows of Iacon and if you were to ask the Prime, whom I report to, whether or not we exist, he would deny it. I am listed on no personnel record or employment docket. If anyone were to look into my past, they would see only what I’ve shown you, Nightshade, merchant and entrepreneur.”   
  
Starscream had read about the act of jaws dropping and gaping in surprise. He didn’t think people did it in real life.   
  
Until now.   
  
“The Enforcers have been after Turmoil for a very long time. Longer, even, than your Rodimus has known him,” Nightshade continued. “Long enough that their superintendent stooped to asking for my assistance in a joint operation to finally bring him down. For decades, we have been slowly infiltrating Turmoil’s reach at every level, including placing agents here.” He gestured to Blue Sun as a whole.   
  
“As you probably guessed, Atomizer is one of my own. As are Jazz and Skids. Spinner and Bluestreak are Enforcers under Prowl’s leadership. Tumbler is one of Prowl’s as well. Drift, as I understand it, is a free agent.”  
  
“That…” Starscream searched for words and failed. He shook his head. “If I hadn’t been here, I wouldn’t have believed it.”   
  
Nightshade nodded slowly. “It’s a lot to absorb, I know.” He shifted, angling his frame into the comfort of the chair. “But I want you to understand that while we were here to bring down Turmoil, that doesn’t mean we didn’t have personal reasons as well. I, for one, quite enjoyed our sessions, and with your permission, I’d like to continue them in the future.”   
  
Starscream flushed.   
  
“It’s nice to know it wasn’t all business,” Sunstreaker said, his tone tight with annoyance. His face pinched, his armor drawn taut.   
  
Nightshade’s gaze shifted to Sunstreaker. “You are angry,” he observed.   
  
“No.” Sunstreaker’s lips formed a thin line as he vented. “I’m furious. You put us all in danger, and we didn’t even know we were at risk. More than that, you put Rodimus and Starscream in danger. They could have been killed. But I’m sure we were considered acceptable collateral damage, yes? We are, after all, only buymechs.”   
  
“Sunstreaker!” Starscream hissed, embarrassed on his roommate’s behalf. “That’s--”  
  
“No. It’s quite all right.” Nightshade held up a hand. His gaze softened. “He’s right to be upset. While we made every effort to ensure the safety of the employees here, there was always the possibility someone might be hurt. It was a calculated risk. If I could have obtained your consent without compromising the integrity of the operation, I would have.”   
  
Sunstreaker’s field buzzed with agitation. “That’s not an apology.”   
  
“Because I can’t give one. We accomplished our mission. Turmoil will never harm another again.” Nightshade audibly cycled a ventilation, his posture relaxing. “By proxy, Rodimus is also free of Turmoil’s influence.”  
  
“But not his debt,” Starscream commented.   
  
Nightshade shook his head. “No. That is owned by Streamline, and through the lines of the deal we struck, he cannot be prosecuted for it, therefore, the debt stands.”   
  
Sunstreaker’s engine revved. He shot to his feet, hands forming fists at his side.   
  
“It must be nice,” he snarled, “to be safe and comfortable in your tower while the rest of us are pieces moving around your game board. If you’re looking for congratulations, you’re not going to get them from me. Any of us could have died, and we’re worth so little to you, it wouldn’t have mattered. Not one fragging bit.” He whirled on a heel, stomping away from them.   
  
Starscream half-rose. “Sunstreaker, wait--”   
  
“Let him go,” Nightshade said. “In some ways, he’s not wrong.”   
  
Starscream settled back into the couch, though he frowned at Sunstreaker’s back. Things between them had been so strained, and he was at a loss how to fix it. It was like they were back to the beginning, when Starscream had first met Sunstreaker and they walked on bolts and brackets around each other.  
  
“He cares for you very much,” Nightshade said.   
  
Starscream worked his intake. “We’re roommates.” He managed a thin smile. “And only that.”   
  
“I think you undervalue what is between you.” Nightshade’s voice quieted.   
  
Starscream cycled a ventilation. “I’ve learned the perils of putting too much hope in an impossibility.” He sat back in the lounge, but his attention kept drifting to where Sunstreaker had disappeared down the hall. “So. What happens next?”   
  
Nightshade waved a hand. “Blue Sun will reopen in due time, once our investigation is complete. Streamline has been very cooperative, perhaps in an attempt to speed up the process. Afterward everything can return to business as usual.”   
  
“No, I meant…” Starscream nibbled on his bottom lip. “Your agents.”   
  
“Ah.” Nightshade nodded. “Well, Atomizer is not going to return. Blurr will have to find a new bodyguard. Bluestreak and Jazz, as I understand it, will still seek out your services, though I leave that up to them to discuss with you. You will have to ask Drift his intentions.”   
  
None of it was surprising.   
  
Starscream scrubbed a hand down his thighs. “And you?”   
  
“Well, as I said, if I am welcome, I would like to visit again.” Nightshade smiled, and it was so soft, it felt genuine. “I have enjoyed our time together. That was neither a lie nor a pretense.” He chuckled. “I would welcome Rodimus join us as well. He is quite adorable.”   
  
“Yes, he is.” Heat flushed Starcream’s face. “I’d like it if you returned. And Bluestreak, too. Though I’ll be sure to tell him that myself.”   
  
Nightshade’s field reached out, tentative and warm. “I’m glad to hear it.”   
  
A door clicked open behind Starscream. He turned as Rodimus and Drift stepped into view, emerging from the kitchen staging area. An odd place to have a private chat, but who was Starscream to judge.   
  
Rodimus’ armor was open. His field locked on to Starscream’s immediately, and in it was relief. He looked pensive, but not harried. Perhaps he and Drift had come to an accord of some kind.   
  
Drift was smiling, also. There was relief in his optics as well.   
  
Good.   
  
Starscream had no intentions of liking Drift anytime soon, but if Rodimus saw fit to forgive or at least listen to him, then Starscream wouldn’t interfere. Rodimus’ life was his own. But if Drift had thoughts about bringing more pain into it, Starscream would show him the error of his ways.   
  
“I’ll let you get back to your vacation,” Nightshade said. He stood, rotors flicking as they readjusted around his frame, settling against his hips and thighs. “And to your roommate as well. I gather you two need to have a conversation.”   
  
“Or two,” Starscream sighed.   
  
He pushed himself out of the chair, and blinked when Nightshade unexpectedly reached for him. Starscream offered his hand without thinking, and was surprised when Nightshade gently grasped his fingers.   
  
“I’ll see you again,” Nightshade murmured as he bent to brush his lips over Starscream’s fingertips, the most forward behavior he’d ever displayed.   
  
“Don’t wait too long,” Starscream said. His hand slipped free of Nightshade’s, tingling where his favorite patron had touched him.   
  
Nightshade left, taking Drift with him, but not before Drift pulled Rodimus into a quick hug, one Rodimus tightly reciprocated.   
  
“You okay?” Rodimus asked as he bounded up to Starscream, spoiler twitching.   
  
Starscream managed a smile. “I should be asking you that. Everything all right with Drift?”   
  
“It’s better.” Rodimus nibbled on his bottom lip and rubbed his hands down his thighs. “I let him apologize for real this time. I didn’t really forgive him, but I can work on that. I guess I can’t blame him for everything.”   
  
“Just most of it.”   
  
“Yeah. Just most of it. I never really hated him, you know.”  
  
Starscream slung his arm over Rodimus’ shoulders, pulling the younger mech into a half-embrace. “Yes, I know. You were disappointed in him more than anything.”   
  
“That, too.” Rodimus looked around. “Where’d Sunny go? I thought he was with you.”  
  
Starscream sighed. “He didn’t take Nightshade’s revelations very well. He’s sulking in our room.”   
  
“He was mad you got hurt, wasn’t he?”   
  
Starscream gave him a sharp look. “How did you guess?”   
  
Rodimus scratched at the side of his nose. “He’s as transparent as you are. I really wish you two would get your head out of your afts sooner rather than later. Honestly, it was funny at first, but now it’s just sad.”   
  
“What are you even talking about?”   
  
“I don’t know why I bother,” Rodimus sighed. He threaded an arm through Starscream’s, tugging him toward the lift. “Come on. You and Sunstreaker need to talk, and I need a nap.”   
  
The role-reversal amused him. “Do we now?”   
  
“Yes,” Rodimus said as though it were a foregone conclusion.  
  
Starscream allowed himself to be silenced. It wouldn’t hurt for Rodimus to win an argument for once, or be given some measure of control. Considering all that had happened lately, it was no surprise Rodimus felt he needed some. His life had been a whirlwind, out of his handling from the moment he’d been sparked.   
  
The quiet of Blue Sun wrapped around them. Rodimus’ field was a warm, content presence against Starscream’s own. He leaned into Starscream’s side, offering and demanding comfort, and Starscream patted the arm linked around his.   
  
“I am glad your conversation with Drift went well,” he murmured. “Though I’m annoyed the Enforcers couldn’t do the least for you and erase your debt.”   
  
Rodimus’ shoulders sagged. “Being sent here was one of the worst things I thought could happen to me.” He looked up at Starscream and grinned. “But I met you out of it, so I guess it’s not all bad.”   
  
There was something absolutely wrong with a universe which could cause such pain to a mech as sweet as Rodimus. That he could hold onto that sweetness, even through the agony, was a testament to his inner strength.   
  
Starscream tweaked Rodimus’ chin. “You are pretty lucky, aren’t you?” he teased, and pressed a kiss to Rodimus’ forehead. “You going to be all right by yourself tonight?”   
  
“Pft. I’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t want to get in the way of the storm waiting for you in your room.” Rodimus winced and patted Starscream’s arm. “Go gentle on him though. He was worried about you.”   
  
Starscream snorted. “I don’t know what you think I’m going to do.”   
  
“Probably the wrong thing, knowing you two.” Rodimus rose up and pressed a kiss to Starscream’s cheek. “See you in the morning.”   
  
“Good night, Rodimus.”   
  


***


	7. Chapter 7

There was something ominous about the door to his own quarters, and Starscream couldn’t put a finger on why. He refused to walk away, however. He lived here too, damn it, even if Sunstreaker was in a snit.   
  
Inside, it was dim, and soft music played from their sound system. Sunstreaker was curled up in the window seat – an odd choice from him – and he was holding one of his novelpads.   
  
“Reading anything good?” Starscream asked as the door closed and locked behind him.   
  
“Depends on what you call good,” Sunstreaker replied, his tone perfectly even, his gaze focused on the glowing screen. “I’m surprised you’re here.”   
  
Ah. So right into the argument then. Fun.   
  
“Why wouldn’t I be? Where else would I go?”   
  
Sunstreaker flicked absently through his datapad, but Starscream doubted he was actually looking at it. “I figured Rodimus would need your company tonight.”   
  
Starscream’s optics narrowed. “He said he’d be fine. If anything, he pushed me to come after you, because you were upset.”   
  
“Right.” Sunstreaker snorted.   
  
“And I can see he wasn’t wrong.” Starscream moved further into the room, though he kept to Sunstreaker’s periphery, reading the tight clamp of his roommate’s armor. “You’re still angry with me.”   
  
“I’m not angry.” Sunstreaker’s lips were a thin line.   
  
Starscream frowned. “You’re a very poor liar.”   
  
“I have no right to be angry, therefore I’m not,” Sunstreaker gritted out. He looked over the top of his datapad at Starscream, his optics thin slits of icy blue. “Whatever you chose to do with yourself is no business of mine.”   
  
Starscream vented, sharp and loud. “You’re acting like it’s a bad thing I stood up for Rodimus. Especially when no one else would do it. Most people would applaud that kind of heroics not--”  
  
“Do you love him?”   
  
Starscream blinked. “What?”   
  
The datapad was set aside with a sharp click. Sunstreaker spun on the windowseat, his feet hitting the floor. “It’s a simple fragging question, Starscream.”  
  
“It’s not like that!” he snapped. He folded his arms over his cockpit, his spark hammering in his chassis. “You know good and well that doing what we do, who we are, that sort of thing isn’t even a factor. I’m fond of Rodimus, yes. He’s easy to like. But love? Of course not. I don’t have the luxury.”   
  
“Luxury,” Sunstreaker echoed. He worked his intake. “Well, you’re right about that at least. Love doesn’t enter the picture here. Not one bit.”   
  
“No, it doesn’t.” Starscream cycled a ventilation, struggling to get himself under control. “I’m not going to apologize for caring about Rodimus.”   
  
Sunstreaker pushed to his feet. “I wasn’t asking you to.”  
  
“Then what are you asking?” Starscream demanding, tension coiling inside of him, desperate to be released. He felt like he were falling, and not even his wings could keep him from hitting the ground.   
  
He didn’t understand.   
  
“Not for anything. I just-- Argh.” Sunstreaker twisted away, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Just forget it. I’m sorry I snapped at you about Rodimus. Whoever you want to care about, that’s your business, not mine. He’s a good kid. He’s lucky he’s got you to look after him.”   
  
“Sun--”  
  
He shook his head sharply. “I don’t want to fight.”   
  
Starscream cycled a ventilation. “Who’s fighting?”   
  
“Exactly.” Sunstreaker vented, but the fierce clamp of his armor did not ease. In the reflection of the window, Starscream could see his optics were shuttered, his face a mask of emotion. “So can we just not talk about it anymore?”   
  
“We need to talk.” Starscream hunched his shoulders. “I think that much is pretty clear.”   
  
“No, we don’t. The issue is closed.”   
  
Starscream ground his denta. It wasn’t done, but damn it, when Sunstreaker closed up like this, there was no getting through to him. If he didn’t want to talk, Starscream couldn’t make him.   
  
“Fine,” Starscream bit out. “But will you at least help me with my wing? I need to get the static bandaging off, and I want to make sure my paint isn’t too ruined.”   
  
“Of course I will.” Sunstreaker cycled ventilation and turned, his face a careful mask. “I can’t let you walk out of here looking like a mess. What would the others think?”   
  
The joke was weak, but sorely needed. Starscream snorted and moved into their private washrack. “Appearance is everything.”   
  
Sunstreaker followed him inside. He said nothing as he started the rinse, setting it to a decent temperature, and as he approached, Starscream obligingly turned. There was no one else he’d trust to remove the bandages. Sunstreaker had the gentlest hands, for all that he was the fiercest dom.   
  
“Thank you,” Starscream murmured.  
  
Sunstreaker’s hands carefully landed on his wing, peeling back the sticky mesh away from the dented panels. “What are roommates for?”  
  
Starscream chewed on his bottom lip.   
  
He counted ventilations, listened to the patter of the solvent, and held himself still. His pain patches had worn off long ago, and he didn’t want to jostle his wings anymore than necessary. Wrench had explicitly said he was to take care.   
  
“The welds look good,” Sunstreaker said as Starscream felt the first wisp of warm, damp air ghost over the bared plating. “Should heal without so much as a scar.”   
  
“Wrench is good at what he does.”   
  
“Would have been better if he hadn’t needed to in the first place,” Sunstreaker muttered before his hands rested on Starscream’s shoulders. “Step back a few paces. I want to rinse it off.”   
  
Starscream bit back the sharp retort and obeyed. If Sunstreaker wanted to be snide, Starscream would let him. He was tired of fighting.   
  
Sunstreaker changed the settings and the gentlest of sprays cascaded over Starscream’s wings. Starscream relaxed, his armor lifting away from his protoform to let the runoff slide through his seams and over his cables.   
  
“We live in dangerous times,” Starscream murmured as Sunstreaker tended to his wing with the sort of care only medics had. “I was thinking I should take some self-defense courses. More than the few I’ve had at least.”   
  
Sunstreaker was silent for a moment. Exhibiting restraint? How polite of him.   
  
“That sounds like a good idea,” Sunstreaker finally said. The nozzle clicked into a different setting, a firmer spray against Starscream’s back and aft. “It never hurts to know how to defend yourself.”   
  
Starscream shuttered his optics, determined to enjoy the moment, and pretend he couldn’t feel the tension simmering beneath the surface.   
  
“Or defend those you care about,” Sunstreaker said, almost offhand. The spray swept up and down Starscream’s back. “I think I’ll sign up for a few, too.”   
  
“How dangerous do you think it is around here?” Starscream asked, with a forced laugh, because he didn’t like Sunstreaker’s tone. He couldn’t put a finger on why, except it sounded almost murderous.   
  
“Dangerous enough,” Sunstreaker muttered. He clicked off the spray and set the nozzle aside, the drip-drip of the leaky end abnormally loud in the silence. “Clearly, we can’t rely on the Enforcers to look out for our best interests. So we’re going to have to take care of ourselves.”   
  
Starscream turned, resting a hand on Sunstreaker’s arm, forcing Sunstreaker to look at him. “Turmoil crumpling my wing was not Nightshade’s fault.”   
  
“Of course it wasn’t. Not entirely anyway.” Sunstreaker eased his hand free of Starscream’s grip, and Starscream fought down the wave of rejection creeping into his spark. “It was yours.”   
  
Starscream reared back, wings jerking upright, even the injured one, provoking a hiss of displeasure through his denta. “What?”   
  
“You provoked him,” Sunstreaker said, his tone utterly flat, his expression matching it. “You made Turmoil angry. You knew what he would do.”   
  
Starscream’s hands balled into fists. He took another step back from Sunstreaker, a cold chill racing through his armor. “Do you even hear yourself right now? Blaming me because Turmoil attacked me?”   
  
He jabbed a finger toward Sunstreaker, anger rattling over his plating. His field boiled, and he knew Sunstreaker must have felt it, given the way he flinched.   
  
“Turmoil is a monster. He saw an opportunity, and he took it. If it had been you standing there, terrified out of your processor, I’d have done the exact fragging thing. But go ahead. Tell me it’s my fault again. What’s next? You’re going to tell me I must have wanted it in some way? That Rodimus did, too?”   
  
Sunstreaker’s optics hardened. “You’re twisting my words.” He folded his arms over his chestplate. Defensive. Plating clamped tight. Closing himself off, as he always did when he didn’t want to deal with something.   
  
“No, you just never say what you mean to say,” Starscream spat.   
  
He spun and snapped a drying mesh off the rack. He scrubbed down his frame as quickly as possible, motions jerky, betraying the rattle of emotions in his spark. The washrack suddenly felt too small, and Starscream didn’t want to be in here anymore. He didn’t care about his paint or his polish.   
  
“I just don’t understand why you keep doing this,” Sunstreaker protested with a loud whoosh of his vents. “You act like pain is nothing, like your own safety isn’t important, that you don’t matter.”   
  
Starscream threw down the damp cloth. “Here’s a newsflash, Sunstreaker. We’re buymechs. In the optics of the rest of the city, we don’t matter.” He waved his arms, ignoring the flash of pain as his wing moved at an uncomfortable angle. “We’re the only ones who care what happens to us. We’re all alone.”  
  
“I know that!” Sunstreaker’s engine revved. “But that doesn’t mean you have to keep trying to be some kind of… of hero, or whatever. You’re going to get yourself killed.”   
  
Starscream glared. “I can do whatever I damn well want. And if I want to risk my safety for someone I care about, then I will. You have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do.”   
  
“I’m not saying that I do, I’m just saying that you need to start thinking.” Sunstreaker’s vents wheezed, his optics dark and angry. “You’re too smart to be this stupid.”   
  
Stupid.   
  
First, he’s a masochist, inviting Turmoil’s anger because he wanted it apparently. Now, he’s an idiot?   
  
Starscream narrowed his optics. “I think I am starting to see why you couldn’t keep a roommate before me.” He clipped his words, drew on a frosty anger in his spark. “Have you always treated people like unruly subs who need your hand to master them? Or am I special case because I let you put your hands on me?”   
  
Sunstreaker’s face colored.   
  
“Or wait.” Starscream cocked his head. “I must have wanted this all along, since I’m too stupid to decide it for myself. It’s a good thing I have you to tell me everything I’m doing wrong.”  
  
A strangled sound caught in Sunstreaker’s intake. “Star, that’s not--”  
  
He cut off his roommate with a raised hand. “Don’t.” He drew in a long vent, alarmed to find it ragged. He trembled all the way to his substructure. He didn’t know what hurt more, this or the slice of fire in his wing.   
  
“I’m leaving,” Starscream said, his voice echoing around the polished metal. “I can’t be in here with you right now.” He stalked out of the washrack, making a beeline for the main door.   
  
“Star, wait.” Sunstreaker’s field chased after him, something frantic in it.   
  
“For what? So you can yell at me more? No, thank you.” Starscream snatched a kit off his desk as he passed. He’d have to get Rodimus to at least try and polish up his wing in the morning.   
  
Sunstreaker caught up to him, throwing his body between the door and Starscream. “I don’t want to yell.”  
  
“Move,” Starscream growled.   
  
“No.” Sunstreaker’s intake bobbed. “I’m sorry. I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have, and I let my anger get the best of me. Just please… don’t go.”   
  
Starscream huffed. “I’m coming back. This is still my room, after all.”   
  
Sunstreaker looked at the ground, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “That’s not what I meant.”   
  
“I’m sure it wasn’t. Because you never say what you mean to say.” Starscream cycled a ventilation.   
  
He was tired. He was hurting. He just wanted to recharge. He didn’t want to argue anymore. He didn’t want to fight with the words clawing at his intake. He didn’t want to wonder ‘what ifs’ and call himself a coward over and over again.   
  
He rubbed a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. He was just so tired.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Sunstreaker said, again.   
  
He stepped aside, out of the way of the door. Even pressed a hand to the panel so it would open, leaving Starscream free to exit, if he so wanted.   
  
He still wouldn’t look at Starscream though.   
  
Starscream didn’t know which was the heaviest chain: this debt he fought to pay, or the one around his spark, keeping Sunstreaker close, but always out of reach.   
  
“I’m tired.” Starscream spun back around, tossing his kit onto his desk. It slid off the other side with a clatter and hit the floor. “My wing hurts, and I want to recharge. Close the damn door.”   
  
It closed.   
  
Starscream stomped to his berth and climbed into it, rearranging pillows to make it more comfortable for his damaged wing. Sunstreaker hadn’t moved from the door. He hadn’t spoken either.   
  
Starscream cast a glance over his shoulder. Sunstreaker stared at the floor, his expression one Starscream couldn’t read.   
  
“Are you coming or not?” Starscream asked.   
  
“I didn’t think I’d be welcome.” Sunstreaker moved closer to Starscream, tentative, as though he thought any second now, Starscream would lash out at him.   
  
Well, he wasn’t wrong.   
  
“I’m still mad at you.” Starscream sat back on his heels and gestured to the empty space. “But I want a pillow, and I don’t want to recharge alone. I just want to pretend for a little while that everything is fine. Can you do that or do I need to go find Rodimus?”   
  
He had to admit, the last bit was calculated. Maybe Sunstreaker had a point when he said Starscream knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how powerful words could be.   
  
Sunstreaker’s lips pressed together. He worked his jaw. He pulled himself into Starscream’s berth without a word, laying flat, leaving room for Starscream to flatten himself in the crook of Sunstreaker’s frame.   
  
It was much more comfortable this way. The heat of his roommate pressed against him, Sunstreaker’s field nudging his, warm but edged with uncertainty.   
  
Starscream pillowed his head on Sunstreaker’s shoulder. His wings lay comfortably flat against his back. Sunstreaker’s hands rested at the base of his back.   
  
Actions spoke louder than words claimed the old adage.   
  
But words were useful, too. Words meant things.   
  
Sunstreaker never said what he meant.   
  
But then again, Starscream didn’t either.   
  
He cycled a ventilation and shuttered his optics. He relaxed into the dip and rise of Sunstreaker’s frame, soaking in his energy field, pretending as he often did, that there was a real chance here.   
  
The lights extinguished, draping the room in shadows.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Sunstreaker murmured on the tail end of a soft vent. “I should have just told you that I’m glad you’re all right and left it at that.”   
  
Starscream worked his intake. “Yes, you should have.”  
  
“You’re right, too,” Sunstreaker continued, his words stilted and uneven. “It’s not my place to tell you what you can and can’t do. We’re roommates and friends. I’m not your keeper.”   
  
Roommates and friends. Lovers, too, but that was skirting the line of too much, wasn’t it? Could they be lovers if they weren’t actually in love or if it were one-sided or if they couldn’t stay together? Were they friends with benefits? Was there a term that could define them?   
  
“I’m glad you understand that,” Starscream said tightly.   
  
Sunstreaker gently stroked his backstrut. His fingers remained chaste, not venturing further than the small of Starscream’s back. “I’m sorry,” he said, again.   
  
“I know.”   
  
Silence lapsed between them. It was heavy. Starscream was exhausted, he wanted to recharge, but his thoughts kept churning, one after another.   
  
There was something in the air, something tenuous. It reeked of change, but for the better or the worst, he didn’t know. He was almost afraid to find out.   
  
Starscream slid a hand over Sunstreaker’s chassis, making himself as comfortable as he possibly could. He would enjoy this however long it lasted.   
  
For better or worse.   
  


~

  
  
Rodimus sighed and flopped over on his berth.   
  
It was eerily quiet. Both of his roommates were out. He doubted he’d see them until Blue Sun reopened. Even then, he couldn’t be sure either of them would come back.   
  
He hadn’t wanted to lie here in the dark. Alone. But he didn’t want to be between Starscream and Sunstreaker either. Those two had issues. They needed to sit down and talk and be honest with each other.   
  
Honesty.   
  
Rodimus snorted.   
  
What did he even know about it? It wasn’t like his track record was full of truths. But still. He’d seen the way Sunstreaker looked at Starscream when he thought Starscream wasn’t looking. He’d heard the longing in Starscream’s voice. They loved each other. Rodimus didn’t know what fool reason they told themselves for not admitting it.   
  
Frustrating, was what it was. Frustrating beyond belief.   
  
Something creaked in the dark.   
  
Rodimus peered into the shadows. He’d left the baseboard runners on. The console they all shared hummed in a ready-state. Lights on the tower blinked, providing a dim glow.   
  
He was alone. It was probably the furniture settling.   
  
Rodimus stared into the dark. His spark started a pitter-patter of discomfort.   
  
Turmoil was arrested. Most of his top followers were arrested. The underlings were being rounded up even as Rodimus and Drift had spoke. There was nothing to fear. There was no one to come after Rodimus, seeking revenge. He was safe.   
  
They’d told him he was safe.   
  
The ventilation system kicked on with a clatter-whoosh, and Rodimus nearly startled right out of the berth. It was a sound he knew too well. It was abnormally loud in the silence.   
  
He clutched a pillow to his chassis.   
  
He wished he hadn’t told Starscream he’d be fine.   
  
He wished he were stronger.   
  
The baseboard lights flickered.   
  
Rodimus surged out of the berth, tossing the pillow aside. He didn’t need to recharge. He could function fine without it. Why, when he’d been Turmoil’s pet, Turmoil had kept him online for a week once, just to see if he’d be more malleable.   
  
Rodimus shivered at the memory. He stormed out of the room, into the brightness of the hallway. It was late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. He couldn’t go to Starscream’s room. He didn’t have any other friends in Blue Sun. He probably wouldn’t have any now, not after this thing with Turmoil.   
  
Streamline was going to be out for energon.   
  
Rodimus scraped a hand down his face and trudged to the lift. The sales floor at least would be brightly lit, and with the construction workers and the environmental staff trudging in and out here and there, it would be well populated. Plenty of mechs to blame any noise on. Hopefully, one of them wouldn’t be a Turmoil plant.   
  
Ugh.   
  
Maybe the refueling room was a better choice? Quieter. Slightly less occupied by unfamiliar faces.   
  
Rodimus pressed the button to the main floor. He pushed his back against the wall, watching the lift descend, his armor rattling.   
  
The lift dinged as it stopped, picking up another passenger. Rodimus worked his intake, telling himself there was no reason to be afraid. He didn’t need to be such a coward.   
  
The door opened.   
  
Drift stepped inside.   
  
Rodimus blinked. “Drift?”   
  
Drift blinked, too. “Rodimus?”   
  
The lift honked, and Drift scurried the rest of the way inside, letting the door close. He glanced at the panel and keyed the button for the basement.   
  
“Thought you were going to berth,” Drift said.   
  
“I was.” Rodimus tried to play it casual, but his smile came out lopsided, and he knew his field was a mess. “Who needs recharge anyway, eh? Much more fun to be had when you’re online. Thought I might go for a walk.”  
  
The lift stopped on the first floor. Rodimus moved to escape, but Drift caught his arm while he was in the doorway.   
  
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk outside right now. Not alone,” Drift said, his voice thick with worry, his hold gentle. “I mean, we’ve been rounding up Turmoil’s cronies but…”   
  
Rodimus’ shoulders sagged. “But he had a firm hand in this area, and it’s impossible to know if you’ve got them all.”   
  
“And he has a lot of friends.” Drift gave Rodimus’ arm a gentle squeeze. “Maybe recharge is better, yeah?”   
  
Rodimus vented noisily. “No, it’s not.” The lift blatted angrily at them, and Rodimus fidgeted. “I can’t… It’s just… My roommates are out.” He refused to admit he was scared. Not in front of Drift.   
  
“Oh.” Drift shifted and pressed the emergency stop button, so the lift would cease its angry protests. “Most of the guards are out. It’s a little too quiet if you ask me. I could… use the company. If you don’t mind.”   
  
How kind of him to frame it in such a way. Rodimus could cling to his dignity, what little he had. “Sure.” Rodimus shifted into an awkward cant, stepping back into the lift. “I mean, it sucks to be lonely, you know. So if I was there, you’d feel less alone. Because you wouldn’t be.”   
  
“Right.” Drift flicked the switch for the lift, letting the doors close. “I appreciate it.” His gaze swept over Rodimus, echoes of sadness behind his optics. “And I appreciate you being willing to be in the same room as me.”   
  
Rodimus shrugged, tried to play it casual, though it felt anything but. “Anger and resentment are poison,” he said. He’d read it in a book once, one Sunstreaker had given him. “I can’t move forward if I hold onto them forever. And I guess, considering that we were both trying to escape, you were just as much a victim as me.”   
  
Drift’s optics widened as the lift dinged, depositing them in the basement. “That’s unexpectedly gracious of you.”   
  
“I’m learning that I’m a lot of unexpected things.” Rodimus laughed, thinking fondly of Starscream and Sunstreaker and the stuff they helped him learn about himself that he hadn’t known before.   
  
He followed Drift into the guards quarters. It was as silent and still down here as it was upstairs in the residential floors. Where one could usually find a guard or two in the common room, it was deserted. Rodimus would bet many of them decided to jump ship in the wake of Turmoil’s arrest. They’d probably been Turmoil’s pets in some way or another.   
  
“You’re sure about this?” Rodimus asked as Drift led him into the tiny room he called his own. “Staying at Blue Sun, I mean.”   
  
Drift sighed and pulled off his sword, laying it in the stand on the wall. “The Enforcers never officially employed me. I was just an informant. I’m still going to need a job now that this is done. Blue Sun at least gives me some credibility, since I’m still what I always was.”   
  
“An abandoned spark on the streets,” Rodimus murmured. He knew what Drift meant all too well.   
  
It was one of the reasons Turmoil had scooped them up so easily.   
  
“You can have my bunk, if you want,” Drift said. “I won’t mind sleeping on the floor.” He shot Rodimus a crooked grin. “I’ve slept in worse places.”  
  
“Yeah. Me, too.”   
  
Rodimus glanced at the berth. It seemed cruel to make Drift sleep on the floor. They could always go back up to Rodimus’ shared room. There were more berths, and Rodimus doubted his roommates would be back anytime soon.   
  
It felt better here though. Smaller. He could see every corner with ease. No one could lurk behind a curtain.   
  
He chewed on his bottom lip.   
  
He didn’t want to recharge alone. The berths were big enough, weren’t they? Or would it be pathetic of him, to ask Drift to share a berth when he’d been so cold and angry with his former lover before? Would Drift misunderstand the request?  
  
“Roddy?”   
  
Fingers touched his shoulder, featherlight. Rodimus was alarmed to find himself trembling, and his own field a riotous whirl.   
  
“Are you alright?”   
  
“No,” Rodimus admitted, barely above a whisper. Suddenly, the lonely, empty berth was as terrifying as his lonely, empty quarters. “I want to be. But I’m not.”   
  
The fingers vanished from his shoulder, but only because they’d moved to brush the back of his hand. “Come on,” Drift murmured, barely tugging on Rodimus’ fingers with his own. “It’s okay.”   
  
It wasn’t the first time Rodimus heard Drift say those words. It wouldn’t even be the first time he believed them.   
  
He felt numb, detached, as he let Drift pull him toward the berth. It was neat and piled high with pillows in such a garish assortment of colors Rodimus couldn’t help but gape. It was a monstrosity of decadence, and there were frayed bits of pillows where the pointed spurs of Drift’s armor had broken through the woven mesh of them.   
  
“I don’t want to just take your berth,” Rodimus protested.   
  
“It’s okay,” Drift said, and pushed Rodimus toward it, adding in a little flare of warmth from his field. “I’ll recharge in it, too. I mean, if that’s okay with you. If it’ll help.” He paused, cycled a ventilation. “I know what it’s like. I’ve been there. There’s no comparison to helplessness.”   
  
Rodimus’ vents stuttered.   
  
He crawled into the berth, loosing a little moan as his frame sank into the pile of cushions, which rose around him like a fluffy castle. Drift climbed in after him, chuckling as the pillows rolled him against Rodimus, their frames fitting together as easily now as they had before, even after Drift’s rebuild.   
  
Though before hadn’t involved anything like this. They’d never snuggled or cuddled. It had been about ‘facing. Stolen frags in a closet like little acts of rebellion against Turmoil. Quick ‘faces before Turmoil came back or Deadlock had to report to a shift or a delivery. Rodimus lifted up, knuckles pressed to his mouth to muffle his cries as Deadlock consumed him to overload, the only pleasure he ever found.   
  
Honestly, Rodimus wondered why he ever thought himself in love with Deadlock. They hadn’t had anything to love.   
  
Drift rolled against his back, molding against him, his armor warm and silken, his arm extending chaste across Rodimus’ midsection.   
  
“This okay?” Drift asked, his ex-vents puffing against the back of Rodimus’ neck.   
  
Rodimus cycled a ventilation. “Surprisingly, yeah.” He tucked his arms against his chestplate. “Sorry.”   
  
“Don’t apologize. I get it.” Drift’s hand remained where it was, though he didn’t try to stroke or grope Rodimus at all. His field covered Rodimus like a warm blanket. “Though I think this is the first time we’ve done this.”   
  
Rodimus huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. I was just thinking that. We didn’t really share a berth in this sense.”   
  
“I always had other things on my mind,” Drift replied, his tone rich with warmth and amusement. “You could be quite irresistible.”   
  
“Could be?” Rodimus twitched in fake affront, spoiler flicking back against Drift. “I still am irresistible, thank you very much.”   
  
Drift laughed. “Fair enough. Want me to dim the lights?”   
  
Rodimus nibbled on his bottom lip. “Would you tease me if I said no?” The lights were already at half-illumination. Any more and the shadows would start to creep in around him.   
  
“They’re not that bright,” Drift said, by way of answer. He shifted a little behind Rodimus. Peripherally, Rodimus saw him tug a pillow under his head, the mesh giving a little protest at the sharp jut of his finials.   
  
This was… this was better, Rodimus had to admit. The sound of another mech. The tick-tick-tick of cooling metal, the rhythmic rush of vents, the simmering warmth of a field. Better, even, that he knew the other mech was capable of battle if need be. Maybe this time, Drift wouldn’t even abandon him.   
  
Maybe this time, he’d stay to fight.   
  
“I wish it hadn’t come to this,” Drift murmured, as though reading Rodimus’ thoughts. “I wish things hadn’t turned out the way they did. I am sorry, Roddy.”   
  
Rodimus shuttered his optics, swallowed over a lump in his intake. “I know. You’ve said so. And I’ve accepted your apology.” Forgiveness, however, might take a little while longer. Though this was a good start.   
  
Silence fell between them, heavy and expectant, but not uncomfortable. It was far better than the scary nothing of his empty quarters.  
  
“If you want, I can teach you some self-defense,” Drift offered, each word slow and careful, like he wasn’t sure how the suggestion would be taken. “It might help.”   
  
“With the fear, you mean.”   
  
“Yeah, with the fear.”   
  
Rodimus worked his intake. “Did it help you?”   
  
“There’s something to be said about the ability to defend yourself above all else. When you realize that you can fight the monsters that haunt you.”   
  
Rodimus turned his head, rubbing his face into the pillows, the one beneath his cheek a bright, electric green. “Okay,” he said, against the mesh, his voice muffled but Drift should have heard him just fine. “As long as you’re here, I want to learn.”   
  
Drift’s forehead touched his back, between his shoulders, and there was something so intimate and chaste about it.   
  
“We can start in the morning,” Drift murmured. “Don’t worry. I’ll guard your rest. And this time, I’m not going anywhere.”   
  
Rodimus allowed himself to believe Drift. To trust him. To let Drift prove he was not the aft he’d been so long ago.   
  
He shuttered his optics and sank into the pillows, into the protective cradle of Drift’s frame. He listened to the clicks and whuffs of an unfamiliar system – Drift had changed so much.   
  
He allowed himself to dream.   
  
Maybe.   
  
Maybe things could be different now.   
  
Turmoil was gone.   
  
Things could always change.   
  


****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally getting into the angsty meat of the universe, so there's definitely more in the series to come. I'm in the process of writing them now. I did, after all, mention Sideswipe, didn't I? ;) 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback, as always, is very welcome and appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, as always, is welcome, appreciated, and encouraged! :)


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